


Minding His Boss's Business

by MegatonneTalon



Series: FSN Romance AU [1]
Category: Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 73,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegatonneTalon/pseuds/MegatonneTalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Shirou Emiya started his new job as the personal assistant to the CEO of the most influential company in tech, he wasn't counting on being so incredibly attracted to his new boss. More than that, he wasn't expecting the feeling to be mutual. Gilgamesh is known all over the tabloids and social media as an insatiable womanizer, but he has no problems sweeping Shirou off his feet and into a world of private jets and paparazzi. Will Shirou end up in too deep?</p><p>It's an FSN romance novel AU!</p><p>(Warning: There is a prolonged sexual assault scene in the second to last chapter!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This thing started as a romance novel parody and got away from me. Like thousands and thousands of words away from me. It's very AU, obviously, which means Gilgamesh is a normal human instead of a megalomaniacal demigod, so he's maybe a little out of character, and Shirou is a fashionable young man so he's definitely out of character. Just suspend your disbelief a little (or a lot). This thing took me more than six months to write and I put probably an appalling amount of thought into everyone's character and motivations so if you want me to make excuses for any decision feel free to ask I guess.
> 
> In case you don't think 73k words of weird, self-indulgent, Gilgamesh/Shirou romance novel is enough, I'm working on a couple of sequel short stories ("short stories" yeah absolutely, real short).
> 
> PS Thanks to my friend who was kind enough to edit this novel for me, everyone who put up with my random text messages about it, and the most lovely Zee for inspiring me to dedicate my life to fanfic.

It was never a good sign when the other employees wouldn’t tell you why your predecessor left.

It was even less of a good sign when everyone you were introduced to nodded and said, “Well, good luck.”

Both of those things were currently happening to Shirou Emiya, and with every progressive handshake he knew his palms were getting sweatier and sweatier. He tried to convince himself that this was probably normal in the high-powered business world, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was walking into some kind of trap, or that he was just doomed in general. He hadn’t even met the man he was going to be working for yet.

Technically the man he was going to be working for was responsible for him losing his previous job. Uruk Tech has bought out the company he’d been working for, and with the dissolution of that company’s board of directors, and the impending retirement of their CEO, Shirou’s job as said CEO’s personal assistant went naturally by the wayside. But his former boss had pointed out the opening to him, and recommended him highly to Uruk’s hiring department.

When he’d been hired as a personal assistant for the first time, he’d been interviewed personally by his boss. It was strange to him that Gilgamesh Kish hadn't even been bothered to meet him before the job offer was finalized, but the position and the salary were both way too good to pass up so he'd accepted it regardless. He had a considerable amount in student loans to pay off due to a failed stint in art school before he'd taken the more practical business degree, and graduate school on top of that.

Now, though, having finished all the introductions he thought he could stand and sitting back in HR to finalize paperwork, he wasn't so sure.

He was even less sure when the HR employee looked over everything he’d signed, then smiled at him and said, “Well, Mr. Kish isn’t actually here today, but I’ll show you to your desk. The IT department has already set up your computer, and someone will be along to show you how to log in and get you set up with your phone and everything.”

His new boss… wasn’t even here?

The woman interpreted his expression with an accuracy that made him kind of uncomfortable. “Sorry, he got called away at the last minute because of some issues at the new factory. He should be back tomorrow, and so will the temp. We overlapped your schedule with hers a couple of days to be on the safe side, so you can get up to speed with Mr. Kish’s schedule and needs.”

He nodded, not sure what else to do.

She beamed. “On the bright side, you can leave early today!”

Shirou nodded again, and he got up when she did and let her escort him to the elevator. The floor she selected required a keycard to be swiped, which she did before handing the card over to Shirou. She explained more on the way. “Your normal desk is outside Mr. Kish’s office, as you will also be required to receive and assist with his guests. There is also a small desk in his office, however, for when he needs you to sit in on meetings to take notes. He doesn’t like to hold meetings in his office, so it’s pretty rare. Usually only real important stuff. He doesn’t really do anything like dictation so you won’t have to do that kind of thing. For normal meetings in the board room, they are all recorded, so you’ll be able to take minutes later.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to reveal a tastefully modern vestibule, with windows on one side, which probably would have had a breathtaking view if it weren’t for the other office building across the street. As it was, the mirrored windows of the other building made everything over bright. They didn’t linger there, though, as the woman from HR (had she told him her name?) led him down a hallway to their right.

“There aren’t very many offices on this floor. Mr. Kish likes things quiet. It’s really just him, the COO and his assistant, and then there are several conference rooms, and the company’s library is also housed here. You’ll likely be in there a lot. The librarian has an office inside the library. I’m going to introduce you to her first.”

The library was more impressive than Shirou had been expecting. While most of the office building was furnished in a modern style, when they went through the plain double doors leading to the library the design scheme changed so much it could have been a different building. It was an ornate, two-story room, done in dark woods and brass that smelled strongly of wood polish and books. The walls were books from floor to ceiling, with a catwalk about halfway up, accessed by a spiral staircase at the back of the room. The floor was occupied by a small, comfortable-looking reading area of overstuffed armchairs and attractive lamps on end tables, flanked on either side by two enormous tables, one of which had a number of maps spread out across it. The woman from HR knocked on a narrow wooden door that was set into the shelves on one side of the room and it opened after a moment. A slender woman with incredibly long, lilac-colored hair in a single braid opened it. She was dressed fairly casually, in plain slacks and a modest turtleneck sweater, and her glasses were extremely crooked. The room behind her was dim, but Shirou had the impression of stacks and stacks of papers, books, and binders. “May I help you?” she asked.

“This is Mr. Kish’s new PA,” the woman from HR said.

“Shirou Emiya,” Shirou said, stepping forward with his hand extended.

The woman blinked at his hand for a moment, then shook it. “Medusa Ceto,” she said. Up close, her eyes were unnervingly pale. “I’m the librarian for the company.”

“You keep the company records, right?”

“Records and research material. Mostly I do researching for Gilgamesh. Usually that all goes through his PA, so you.”

“Well, I hope we get along,” Shirou said. She had not actually let go of his hand yet, and he was wondering if it would be rude to pull it away.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” the woman from HR said, and Medusa dropped his hand then and retreated back into the other room, which was presumably her office. As soon as the door was closed, the woman laughed a little. “She doesn’t actually come out of there much. You’ll mostly communicate via email, I expect.”

“I see,” Shirou said.

She gave him a quick tour of the rest of the floor, showing him the conference rooms, the large board room, which was apparently used exclusively for board meetings, the file room, the copy room, and then Shirou’s own office, which doubled as a waiting room. It followed the more modern decorations of the rest of the building, which actually disappointed him somewhat. He’d thought the library rather cozy.

There was a very pretty woman with platinum hair sitting in his chair when they arrived, and she got up immediately and offered a hand to Shirou. “You must be Shirou Emiya,” she said, as Shirou shook her hand. She let go right away, he was gratified to find, but she had squeezed his hand incredibly hard for someone with such long, slender fingers. “I’m Irisviel. I’m from IT, but I’m the one who normally takes care of you and Mr. Kish. I’m finishing up getting your computer ready right now.”

“Thanks,” Shirou said.

The woman from HR waved Shirou onward to another set of double doors that were actually behind his desk. That seemed like odd placement to Shirou, but he supposed the idea was that he’d be facing guests as they arrived.

Gilgamesh Kish’s office was massive, which wasn’t surprising. The back wall was all windows, and these windows, like the board room they’d been in earlier, did have an amazing view of the city. The furniture was sparse, but it all looked massively expensive, like modern art pieces. The woman from HR showed him his desk, which was in fact very small, and then pointed out the two doors on the eastern wall of the room. “Mr. Kish has a small private area on this floor. Those doors lead to it. He has a private elevator as well, which is also through there. Unless he asks you to, you are not to go in there for any reason.”

That sounded foreboding, but high-powered CEOs tended to have quirks. His previous boss had as well. The woman escorted him back out to his desk. “Well, I’m going to leave you to it. Once you get all set up, I think it’s fine if you leave for the day. Mr. Kish will expect you here by 8:30 tomorrow. He typically arrives around 9. There’s instructions for your morning in your email, so make sure you read over all that. You’ll find copies of the employee handbook and some other information in your desk drawers.”

Shirou nodded, and she left.

Irisviel was still sitting in his chair and tapping away at his computer. He stood awkwardly behind her for a moment, then went over to look at the shelves that lined one wall of the room. They displayed a variety of things, but most notable were a series of crystal sculptures of Uruk Tech’s various buildings from around the world. Shirou found it odd that there were sculptures of the production factories as well as the offices.

“I assume HR explained to you how we do phones here?” Irisviel suddenly said, startling him from his contemplation of the sculptures.

“Ah, yeah, you pay for them but I choose my own phone and model. I’ve already got an Uruk phone, though. In fact, I just got it a couple of weeks ago. HR said everything should be able to be transferred directly to it.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Let me have it so I can set up the company apps and get you synced with Mr. Kish’s calendar and your email and all.”

He handed his phone over. It had been his gift to himself when he’d gotten the job offer, and he’d spent a lot on it. He was excited to have something other than the shabby data plan he’d gotten with it, though. Apparently Uruk employees still got to enjoy unlimited data, unlike the rest of the world.

This time, he watched her as she worked. He was a little surprised to see a woman in such an important IT role at the company, but it wasn’t like he minded. If he’d seen her downstairs, though, he wouldn’t have assumed at first glance that IT was what she did. She looked more like the type of person who would be in PR or marketing, with her attractive face and fashionable clothes. He wondered if she had difficulty being taken seriously, especially in a company whose employees probably had a lot higher level of tech savvy than the average workplace.

She handed his phone back over to him. “I put my contact info in there as well. I’m basically on-call 24/7, although I also put the numbers of my backups in there as well. If I know I’m going to be unreachable, I’ll always let you know in advance. It’s usually only if I’m actually on vacation, though.” She winked, and he wasn’t entirely sure what that wink was supposed to indicate.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Aaaand, you get a tablet!” she said. She leaned down and pulled it out of a leather messenger bag he hadn’t noticed was sitting on the floor next to her. “I’ve already set it up, so just log in with your username and password once you’ve got a password picked out.” The tablet was one of Uruk’s newest models, although it wasn’t the highest end one. It already had a folding keyboard cover on it. “We use these instead of laptops these days, but it’ll sync with your computer just fine. Just make sure you keep an eye on it, and if you do ever lose it call me or my backup immediately. We can erase it remotely no problem. And obviously keep it locked. Your phone, too.”

Shirou nodded.

She left after showing him how to change his login password on his computer, and helping him set security up on the tablet.

He looked at the clock. It was 2:30, which he felt was far too early to leave, even after having been given permission. And he didn't even know what he'd be doing the next day. Normally he'd expect to have a sit down with his new boss to talk about what was expected of him, but somehow that seemed unlikely.

He opened up the scheduling software the company used and then stared at it. Mr Kish’s schedule was rather intense. It confirmed his suspicion that he wasn't really going to have any time to talk to the man alone, at least not this week. Shirou sighed. He opened up his email next and saw the email from HR outlining Mr. Kish’s normal morning routine. It was pretty standard… make coffee, get the newspapers from the mailroom, stay out of his way.

He'd spent the couple of weeks before starting the job memorizing the names and faces of all Uruk’s executives, including the board members and the heads of each division. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the cheat sheet he'd made himself to confirm that he hadn't forgotten any. He looked through his contacts to see the additions Irisviel had made. Her full name was apparently Irisviel von Einzbern, which sounded more like the name of an heiress than an IT person. She'd actually added a photo for her contact, a selfie of her smiling and throwing up a peace sign. He wasn't quite sure how she'd managed that without him noticing, since he'd been watching her the entire time, but it had clearly been taken in his desk chair. He stared at the photo and wondered how old she was.

Finally, he put down his phone and opened the drawers of his desk. He found the personnel manual the HR woman had told him about, but he also found a black, two-inch binder that was full of paper. He took it out and opened it, curious, and found that it was an extensive dossier on his new boss, apparently compiled by whoever his predecessor had been.

He flipped through it. It had a lot of information, everything from Mr. Kish’s meal preferences to the names and numbers of drivers and pilots on his payroll, his preferred hotels, what types of cars to rent for him. It also had abbreviated lists of similar information for other Uruk executives.

He eyed the comfortable chairs that were arranged in front of his desk for people who had business with Mr. Kish to wait in. Sitting in one of those was probably unprofessional, but it wasn’t like anyone else was around. He took his jacket off and draped it over the back of his desk chair, then moved to one of the other chairs to read through the binder.

The information in the binder turned out to be surprisingly engrossing. Much of it was just lists of companies and phone numbers, but there was an entire section dedicated to Mr. Kish’s personal life. It started out as information about where to take his suits for cleaning, but it even included the phone numbers of his personal trainer and yard service.

It wasn’t an interview with the man himself, but it was more than Shirou had an hour ago. It was also too big to carry around, though. Shirou took the binder to the copy room and stuck the whole sheaf of paper into the document feeder on the large copy machine. He scanned the whole thing and emailed it to himself, then downloaded it onto his phone.

When he went to put the binder back in the drawer, it slipped out of his fingers and fell. He hastily picked it back up to make sure the rings didn’t pop open, but then he noticed it had knocked the bottom of the drawer askew. He reached in to see if he could fix it, hoping he hadn’t damaged his desk on his first day there.

When he touched it, he realized that it wasn’t actually wood. It was cardboard. He slid his fingers around the edge of it and lifted it up to discover a pile of gossip magazines hidden underneath. He put the false drawer bottom down and picked up the magazine on top.  **Exclusive! Insider Report on Gilgamesh’s Personal Life** was the main headline, and the cover photo was a picture of Mr. Kish angrily reaching towards the camera.

Gilgamesh Kish was known for being a hot topic for tabloids. He had a new girlfriend every few weeks, most of whom were media darlings themselves. He had a tendency to break paparazzi cameras. He was known to be haughty and surly, even when representing Uruk in a professional capacity, and he had a number of personal feuds with business rivals. But it did not make much sense for that sort of publication to be hidden in the desk of his personal assistant. Bemused, he flipped open to the cover story and skimmed the article.

It didn’t take more than a few lines for him to start to suspect why no one was talking about why this job had been open. Selling information about your boss to tabloids was the worst sin a personal assistant could commit. Why would anyone keep the evidence of that betrayal in their desk?

He spent the next hour pulling the staples out of the magazines and feeding them into the industrial shredder in the copy room. Once that was done, he read through his morning routine, double-checked Mr. Kish’s schedule for the next day, and reviewed the various Uruk employees he’d be dealing with one more time before putting his jacket back on and heading home.

* * *

The first words Gilgamesh Kish said to Shirou the next morning were: “Who the hell hired a male secretary?”

Shirou did not know how to respond to that. “Uh,” he said, “I’m Shirou Emiya, your new personal assistant.” He held out his hand.

Mr. Kish only looked down at his hand distastefully. Shirou was beginning to believe people in this company had some sort of serious issues with handshakes. “Emiya, huh? What’s my schedule for today?”

Shirou gave up on the handshake and put both hands behind his back. His roommate made fun of him for standing like that, but if he wasn’t holding something he always felt kind of awkward just leaving his hands by his sides. He recited Mr. Kish’s schedule for that morning while the man just stared at him. 

“Well, you’re at least accurate there. Now where’s my newspaper?”

The email had prepared him for that. “It’s on your desk, sir.”

“And my coffee?”

“Ready to pour.”

“Fine. Do that, and then leave me alone until it’s time for my meeting with that squirrel Chambers.” He spun on his heel and went back into his office. Shirou followed. The coffee maker was on a cart that he had found in the small kitchenette that he’d discovered sandwiched between Mr. Kish’s office and the main board room. He’d rolled it into Mr. Kish’s office and gotten the coffee started as soon as he’d arrived. He’d been skeptical of the simple machine, which was just a cheap, basic coffee maker like one could buy at any department store, but that particular quirk had been in the notes in the binder. He had needed to hand-grind the beans, though, which were hand-delivered twice monthly by one of the more famous coffee shops downtown. He felt almost bad subjecting them to the machine.

He was glad that Mr. Kish took his coffee black. Getting it to the right sweetness had always been a challenge with his previous boss. Black was far easier. He poured it into a mug and brought it over to Mr. Kish’s desk, where the man had already sat down and was perusing the newspaper. Shirou noticed he’d skipped straight to the lifestyle section, which was odd. He’d have expected someone in a position like this man’s to read the business section first, if not just starting with the features section.

As he set the coffee down, Mr. Kish tapped his finger on the page in front of him. “Here,” he said, and Shirou looked to see what he was pointing at.

It was an ad for a recent, popular musical. “I need two tickets for this. Next Thursday.”

“Do you have a seating preference?”

“Orchestra.”

“I’ll get them. Is this a business expense or personal?”

Mr. Kish was looking at him appraisingly. “Both,” he said.

Both? Well, he’d let the finance department sort that out. “Anything else?”

“No.”

Shirou nodded and left the room. He closed the double doors softly behind him and then sat down at his desk, turning his chair so he could still see the doors from the corner of his eye. “Oh my god,” he said under his breath.

Maybe his reputation was deserved. Maybe this man was an asshole. Possibly he spent his weekends kicking puppies and macing homeless people. But if he was an asshole, he was  _ by far _ the hottest asshole Shirou Emiya had ever encountered.

He’d seen pictures of Gilgamesh Kish plenty of times. The man was the head of one of the most successful companies in the world, and he was handsome, so he was a popular subject for business journals and gossip rags alike. But not a single picture he’d seen could remotely compare to the reality. His golden hair… it wasn’t just blonde, it was  _ gold _ . His eyes… his cheekbones, even. His ears. Even his ears were perfect, pierced with their perfect gold studs. His suit… He hadn’t even had the jacket buttoned up and wasn’t even wearing a tie, but somehow Shirou, in his own three-piece suit with his expensive tie, had felt underdressed somehow. The man radiated sexuality, like… like some kind of panther. He’d thought his heart was going to stop when Mr. Kish had given him that look after asking for the tickets.

The tickets. He had to buy those tickets. He had to buy tickets to a show, and try very hard  _ not _ to get a raging boner just thinking about his new boss.

He expected Mr. Kish was giving him some kind of test by asking for good seats to such a popular musical in a little over a week, but Shirou had done a lot of research on Uruk Tech and he knew that the company was a big sponsor of the particular theater where the show was being performed. He didn’t bother going through the box office, instead calling the public relations office directly. He’d done this sort of thing before for his previous boss, who was forgetful and whose wife loved the theater, and who had also been a big sponsor of the arts. It didn’t take a lot of talking for him to get two seats, two excellent seats, and in fact he didn’t even need the company credit card that he’d picked up from the finance department that morning. “Do you want us to send them by courier?” the woman he was speaking to asked.

“That would be perfect. Thank you again, and sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Not at all. We are honored that Mr. Kish is going to be attending!”

As he was hanging up, there was a soft knock on the door before it opened. It was the HR employee who had been showing him around yesterday. She looked rather uncomfortable. “May I help you?” Shirou asked, standing.

“Um, well… I told you yesterday that the temp who had been filling in before you started would be here to show you the ropes today, right?”

“Yes?” Shirou asked, already fairly certain he knew what she was going to say next.

“Well, she was in a car accident this morning.”

“What?” That had not actually been what he was expecting her to say. He’s just been expecting a refusal to come to the office.

“Well, to be more accurate, she was hit by a bus.”

“A  _ bus _ ?” Shirou repeated.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Shirou didn’t understand the question for a second before he realized that she meant with taking care of Mr. Kish despite the lack of instruction. “I’ll manage,” he said. “I have been doing this since I graduated.”

She smiled, probably thinking about how she knew from his personnel record that he’d only graduated three years ago. He’d gotten that from some of the other employees of the company too… “Aren’t you a little young?” sorts of comments. “Well, just call me if you have any questions and I’ll do what I can to help. I’m sure Mr. Kish will be understanding.” Her expression when she said the second part made him think she was not  _ actually _ sure, and in fact kind of doubted it.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, “But I never quite caught your name yesterday.”

“Oh, how silly of me,” she said. She reached into an inside pocket of the smartly-tailored jacket she was wearing and took out a card case, then handed a card to Shirou. “I probably forgot to introduce myself if I didn’t give you one of these yesterday. That reminds me, you should probably order some business cards for yourself. You’re probably going to end up dealing with salespeople a lot.”

He looked down at the card as he took it. It identified the woman as Bazett McRemitz. Unsure exactly how that was pronounced, he only looked back up at her and nodded. “I’ll do that soon,” he said.

The rest of the morning was occupied by Mr. Kish’s meeting with the head of Uruk’s Research and Development branch, a man named Noel Chambers. When he’d arrived at the office and sat down to wait, Shirou immediately understood why Mr. Kish had referred to him as “that squirrel.” He was an undeniably squirrelly man, with a rather twitchy disposition. He also hadn’t bothered to introduce himself when he arrived, only sat down immediately, so Shirou got up and went over to him. “Mr. Chambers?” he asked, as if confirming the man’s identity although from his studying he already knew for sure who it was.

“Yes?” Chambers said. He had very thick lenses in his very unfashionable glasses. 

“I’m Shirou Emiya, Mr. Kish’s new personal assistant.”

“Oh, is that bitch he had before gone for good then?”

Shirou was taken aback by that. He decided to ignore the question, since the answer was obvious anyway. “Mr. Kish will be with you shortly,” he said.

Chambers snorted. “Of course he will.” He waved Shirou’s offer of coffee off. “I’ll have some in the boardroom. We’re not meeting in here anyway.”

“Of course,” Shirou said, and sat back down at his desk. The binder had suggested Mr. Kish preferred to eat lunch alone in his office when he had a long meeting in the morning, so he ordered delivery from a bistro a couple of blocks away that had been listed as a preferred lunch choice, scheduling the delivery for twelve thirty and asking them to text him when they got to the building. Security at Uruk’s headquarters was not surprisingly quite strict, so he also called down to the front desk to let the receptionist know he was expecting a delivery.

Mr. Kish came out of his office at exactly 9:45, and Shirou stood immediately and picked up his tablet from where he’d set it on the charge pad that he’d discovered was built into the desk. He noticed Mr. Kish didn’t really greet Chambers, instead just nodding brusquely to him and sweeping out of the room.

Shirou followed the two men to the board room. Bazett had told him yesterday that Mr. Kish preferred not to have meetings in his office, but with just two people Shirou would have assumed he’d use one of the smaller conference rooms and not this enormous space, with its huge table and overlarge chairs. Chambers seemed to have been expecting it, though, because he plopped himself down in one of the chairs before even Mr. Kish had sat down. He’d sat on the end to the right of the seat Mr. Kish eventually sat in. Shirou wasn’t sure if he should sit at the board table or sit at the small table behind Mr. Kish that was clearly intended to be where he would sit during actual board meetings. He decided quickly, though, and put his tablet down on that smaller table. He then stopped by Chambers and asked, “How do you take your coffee?”

“Two creams,” Chambers said, not looking at him. He was pulling files out of the bag he’d brought with him and spreading them across the table.

Shirou ducked into the kitchenette, wondering why someone from research and development was bringing paper files to a meeting with the CEO of a tech company. He went straight through to Mr. Kish’s office and got the coffee cart, bringing it back into the kitchenette before pouring Chambers a cup and adding the two creams. He then got the pitcher of water he’d poured after starting the coffee before Mr. Kish had arrived from the fridge and a single glass. He put all these things on a tray to carry it back to the table, handing Chambers the coffee and pouring a glass of water for Mr. Kish. Mr. Kish was looking over the papers Chambers had brought while Chambers sat in his chair and twitched. Shirou quickly sat and got his tablet ready to take notes on the conversation.

He’d been a little excited about the prospect of hearing from the head of Uruk’s research and development, thinking maybe he would find out about some interesting new tech coming out, but in fact the meeting was rather boring. It was mostly Mr. Kish asking Chambers to tweak various things about various already in-production products. It all seemed rather nit-picky, but Shirou faithfully recorded both Mr. Kish’s requests and Chambers’s responses.

They were wrapping up when Shirou’s phone buzzed with the text from the bistro’s delivery person. He got up, leaving through the kitchenette and Mr. Kish’s office so he could grab the company credit card from his desk. He managed to get down to the lobby quite quickly, pay for the food, and take it back up before Chambers actually left, but he made a mental note to request the delivery a little later the next time. It was probably better for Mr. Kish to wait a few minutes in his office rather than Shirou have to abandon his note taking. He put the delivery bags in the kitchenette and sat back down as Mr. Kish was giving Chambers a surprisingly detailed summary of all the requests and comments he’d made.

“Well, have a nice afternoon,” Chambers finally said when Mr. Kish had finished.

Mr. Kish only nodded. He got up as Chambers was still gathering his papers. Shirou followed him out of the board room and back into his own office. He wondered why Mr. Kish didn’t take the shortcut through the kitchenette.

“How long do I have for lunch?” Mr. Kish asked once he was back seated at his desk and Shirou was fetching the takeout bags.

“Forty-five minutes,” Shirou said. “Then a photographer is coming.”

“Ugh,” he said. He didn’t comment on the meal, only began eating. Shirou wasn’t entirely sure if he was dismissed or not, so he just retreated into the kitchenette to get the man a fresh glass of water and then again to eat the sandwich he’d ordered for himself.

He waited a half hour before coming back out, scrolling through his various social media feeds in the meantime. He also sent a text to his roommate to make sure she was awake for her afternoon job. After the half hour, he found Mr. Kish had finished eating and was reading something on his computer. He quietly took the empty food containers away to throw them out.

The entire week went much the same. Shirou was feeling pretty successful, and whatever his predecessor’s opinion of Mr. Kish, he was very thankful for the information that had been compiled in that binder. Finally, on Friday afternoon, Mr. Kish came out of his office at 4:30 while Shirou was double-checking his expense reports for the week and announced that Shirou had the weekend off. “But you’re on-call,” he warned.

“Yes, sir,” Shirou said. He’d seen that a complete weekend off was going to be somewhat rare based on Mr. Kish’s schedule for the rest of the month, but he’d also already known that when he’d accepted the job.

* * *

Despite not getting off work herself until 10:00, his roommate insisted they go and celebrate Shirou’s successful first week in his new job. “I invited Rin,” she announced when Shirou tried to protest.

“If she’s coming, then…”

“Archer’s coming too.”

Shirou groaned. Archer was his brother, who was also, in a weird coincidence, his roommate’s best friend’s fiancé. He didn’t really dislike his brother, but Archer had strong opinions about how Shirou was wasting his business degree on something like being a personal assistant, and equally strong opinions about Shirou’s complete disaster of a love life, and he’d definitely be hearing about both.

He sighed and flopped over sideways on the couch where he’d been sitting watching TV while waiting for Artoria to get home. “How am I supposed to date anyone when I have to look at my unbelievably hot boss every day?” he asked.

“Just date your boss,” she replied. She sat down on the arm of the couch and looked down at him. “Marry him and you’d be rich. He’s single right now, isn’t he? Didn’t his last girlfriend slap him in the face during a red carpet event last month? The video was all over the internet.

“Yes,” Shirou said. “Well, maybe. He wanted two tickets to a show, so he might have someone else already.” He eyed Artoria, thinking, as he had also thought earlier this week, that she was pretty much Gilgamesh Kish’s type. Petite and blonde. Although she was a bit boyish, and he was pretty sure Mr. Kish liked his women with larger breasts.

They’d been roommates through most of university, after Shirou had dropped out of art school and come back from a year abroad. He’d found a nice studio apartment and forgotten to specify gender when he’d advertised for a roommate, but they’d hit it off and decided to give the arrangement a try anyway. Now they’d been living together for six years. She actually worked for a private security company, basically as a contract bodyguard. Her usual clients were young women, heiresses and movie stars. It was a niche that worked pretty well for her. She was actually still dressed from her afternoon job, in a black suit with a dark gray shirt and a black tie. She looked like a special agent.

What most of her clients didn’t know is she had another, also fairly successful, career as a let’s player on YouTube. Somehow that was how she’d met Rin, who actually made a living off her YouTube channel. Rin did lifestyle videos, things like makeup and fashion tips, and personal vlogs. Shirou had known her before Artoria due to her relationship with his brother, but had been surprised when he learned that the two of them knew each other as well. Unfortunately for him, finding out they all knew each other had resulted in Artoria insisting they hang out all the time. He actually very occasionally got recognized on the street as Rin’s friend by her fans, although Rin never identified him in the videos he ended up in. Somehow no one picked up on him being her fiancé’s brother based on their looks alone.

* * *

And that was because, Shirou thought as he looked up at his brother outside the pub Rin and Artoria had selected, they looked really nothing alike. His brother was tall and much darker-skinned, and he bleached his hair for some reason that Shirou really didn’t get. Right now the roots were starting to grow in a little. “How’s your new job?” Archer asked him as Rin and Artoria filmed themselves for some possible future vlog.

“Exhausting,” Shirou said, “but friendship duty calls.”

Archer actually chuckled at that. “I know I’ve criticized your career choice in the past, but I can’t even say anything about it this time. Gilgamesh Kish’s personal assistant, huh?”

“It wasn’t like my previous job was anything shabby,” Shirou said, annoyed. His brother was, of all the unlikely things for someone as tall and well-built as Archer was, a pediatrician.

“Hey, are we going in or what?” Rin asked, pushing past Shirou to grab hold of Archer’s arm.

“You guys were the ones who were keeping us,” Shirou pointed out.

They sat at the bar. The barkeeper that night was another regular guest in Rin’s videos, which his boss didn’t mind because it brought a regular influx of Rin’s fans as customers. Whether or not any of said fans were around that evening would be revealed in time, but for now they remained unaccosted and ordered their drinks.

Rin leaned across Artoria to better speak to Shirou. “So, Shirou,” she said, “Your fans have been blowing up my inbox all afternoon!”

“My fans?” Shirou asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh come on. I’ve told you you have fans before. They all call you ‘Redhead’ and they’re constantly harassing me to tell them your name.”

“Which you haven’t done, right?” Shirou asked.

“Of course not. It’s privileged information. Anyway…” She sat back and dug around in her purse. She carried a large bag because she always carried her camera with her. What she pulled out, though, was an issue of Weekly Stars, a particularly trashy gossip magazine.

“Do you actually read that?” Shirou asked before she could say anything.

“No!” she said, sounding honestly offended. She flipped it open to a page she’d folded the corner over on. “I bought it just to show you. Look at this.”

He looked. The lights of the bar weren’t really bright, but they were certainly bright enough for him to clearly make out a paparazzi photo of Mr. Kish getting on his motorcycle, with Shirou himself standing next to him holding a garment bag. “Oh my god,” he said.

“None of your fans can believe that’s you! Isn’t it hilarious?”

Archer had gotten up from his barstool on the other side of Rin to look over Shirou’s shoulder. “Wow, my little brother getting paparazzied,” he said, “while holding his boss’s dry-cleaning no less.”

Shirou couldn’t really argue that point, because it was true. That had been on Wednesday, the day he actually found out that Mr. Kish rode a motorcycle to and from work. Apparently one of the functions of his private room next to his office was a place to change into motorcycle leathers, but since he had a private elevator in there as well Shirou hadn’t previously known. He changed when he got to the office, and he’d instructed Shirou that he would leave his suits to be taken to the cleaners’ every Wednesday evening. Shirou had dutifully dropped them off after leaving, but since he’d walked out at the same time as his boss, he’d inadvertently ended up in the photo. “When did this come out?” he asked.

“This afternoon. Read the caption, though. They call you cute.”

Shirou read it. “‘Gilgamesh Kish’s cute new personal assistant? This marks a change for the high-powered tech CEO, always seen before with a much sexier model of PA.’ are you serious?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it. It must have been a slow week for gossip.”

“No, I mean what if this gets me into trouble?” Shirou asked. “I can’t lose this job after only a week.”

Rin shrugged. “Not much you can do about it now,” she pointed out. “But if they were going to fire you over being in a photograph, they’d have to fire ol’ Gil himself first. He’s in these things every week.”

“Yeah, but it's a lot harder to fire a CEO,” Shirou said.

“Suck it up!” Rin said. “Anyway, if someone figures out who you are from this can I finally call you by your name in my videos?”

“I can't believe you’re asking me that.”

“Rin, stop,” Artoria said. “He's still nervous about this job. Tease him later.”

“Fine,” Rin said, finally sitting up properly again. “But I really think it's a lost opportunity.”

Archer laughed. “Now, dear, how would you feel if all your fans knew this skinny little guy is your future brother-in-law?”

“Well excuse me for not having the time to constantly work out like you do!” Shirou said. “I seem to remember you getting pretty skinny yourself when you were doing your residency.”

Rin didn't bring up the magazine again, but Shirou couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the evening. The result of that is that he drank rather more than he'd meant to, and he did not take his alcohol well. Artoria had to practically carry him home.

He only had a dim memory of that, and of getting undressed and going to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

When he woke up, it was to the sound of Artoria talking to herself. She usually used her weekend time to work on editing or other things that didn’t involve actual recording, but she’d had a couple of bodyguard jobs that week and was probably trying to catch up. It didn’t particularly bother him when she did need the weekend for recording time, especially since she wore headphones while doing it anyway, but this particular morning his head was killing him. She gave him a little wave as he stumbled across to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

She spent most of the day recording while he sat on his bed and went over Mr. Kish’s schedule for the following week. There were less meetings, which was nice, but he still hadn't been given any instructions regarding the show on that Thursday. That was bothering him right now. It was possible Mr Kish didn't need him to do anything, but he hadn't even asked Shirou for the tickets.

Artoria knocked on the shelf that framed Shirou’s makeshift door, which was actually just a curtain strung between that shelf and a matching one on the other side. He got up and pushed the curtain aside. “Done recording?” he asked.

“Yeah. Did you say you had laundry? Wanna go together?”

“Sure.” He left his tablet on the bed and grabbed his laundry bag, doing a quick survey to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. His typical wardrobe made laundromat trips fairly easy, as he took all his suits to the dry cleaner and only needed to actually wash his shirts, underwear, and whatever he wore on the weekend and to work out. He hadn’t actually been to the gym all week, but he also needed to do grocery shopping so he was going to have to go tomorrow.

The laundromat was only a block away, so they just walked. Artoria hefted her laundry bag over her shoulder and sighed. “Imagine living somewhere with an in-unit washer and dryer,” she said.

Shirou laughed. “That’s a pipe dream.” Their building had, at one point, had a shared laundry room in the basement, but all the equipment had been damaged in a flood shortly before Shirou had found the place, and the landlord had never replaced it. “At least the laundromat isn’t far.”

The laundromat was also not crowded, which surprised them both. Saturday afternoon was prime laundromat time and they usually had to wait for a washer to open. They got their loads started and sat down on one of the benches to wait. Shirou opened his e-reader app on his phone while Artoria pulled out a portable game system.

“Hey, Shirou?” Artoria said.

Shirou looked up from his book. “Hmm?”

“Are you going to the dry cleaner’s this week? Could you take a couple of things for me?”

“Sure. I’m probably going to go Monday. What do you want for dinner tonight, by the way? I’m going grocery shopping after this.”

She laughed. “We’re such a married couple, aren’t we?”

Shirou scowled at her.

“You’ll make someone a great wife someday,” she said, giving him a cheesy thumbs-up.

“Very funny,” he said.

“Sorry,” she said. “After my previous roommate situation, I’m just counting my lucky stars every day you forgot to specify gender on that ad you placed.”

“Well, you’re one of the best roommates I’ve ever had too, so I guess so am I. But I’m not gonna marry you no matter how much flattery you lay on.”

“What am I going to do when you start dating your hot boss and move into his mansion?”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Shirou said.

She laughed again. “You’re bright red!” she said, sounding delighted.

* * *

Spending hours in the laundromat always had the unintentional effect of making Shirou sleepy. He got up, stretched, checked the times on his machines and went back over to Artoria. Her game must have been very engrossing because he had to actually nudge her shoulder to get her attention. She popped her earbuds out and looked up at him. “Hey, can you keep an eye on my dryer for a few minutes? I need to walk around or I’m going to fall asleep,” he said.

“I can do that. Be careful!”

“Careful of what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged noncommittally and he left.

Almost as soon as he’d stepped outside, his phone rang. Annoyed, he looked at the screen, but he was surprised when he saw his boss’s number there. Surprised enough that he almost dropped his phone on the pavement. He managed to save it at the last second, but had accidentally picked up the call as he fumbled, so he put it to his ear straightaway and said, “Good afternoon, sir!”

“Shirou,” the voice on the other end was curt. Mr. Kish sounded extremely put-off, which hardly surprised Shirou. Anything that would force someone to call their personal assistant after having given said personal assistant the weekend off was more than likely going to be a problem. “I need to go to New Mexico.”

New Mexico? Shirou wracked his brain for what was in New Mexico. If he’d been in the office he would have been able to recall immediately. Maybe even if he’d been home. But he was standing on the sidewalk outside a laundromat and it took him far longer than it should have to remember Uruk had recently acquired a production plant there. That was where Mr. Kish had been on Monday. “The new plant?” he asked.

Mr. Kish only grunted an affirmation. “I want to be there by morning.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll give you a call when I’ve got a car on the way to pick you up. I assume you’ll be taking your private jet?” Gilgamesh Kish’s gaudy, gold-painted private jet was a source of pride to the man. Shirou was a little excited to see it in person.

“Yes,” Mr. Kish said. He hung up.

Shirou realized he’d tensed up during the call, and also realized he was standing directly in front of the laundromat door and there was a disgruntled woman holding a laundry basket in front of him. He quickly held the door open for her, then followed her back in.

“Did you have a nice walk?” Artoria asked him. She’d put her game away and was standing next to her dryer, which was nearly finished.

“No,” Shirou said. “My boss called.”

“Uh-oh,” she said. “Is dinner off?”

“Is food all you care about?” he asked.

She put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a serious look. “Shirou. I care about you, but I also care about dinner.”

He shrugged her hand off and laughed. “I’ll cook something some other time to make up for it. It looks like I’m going to New Mexico.”

“Did he ask you on a date to New Mexico?”

“Would you drop that already? It’s obviously for work. Ugh, I’m not going to get to the gym this week at all.”

“Just book a hotel with a gym and hope for the best,” she suggested.

“I doubt I’ll have time, but that’s a good idea.” His dryer buzzed a second before hers does. “Well, at least something has good timing.”

* * *

It was now Sunday night, minutes from midnight, and Shirou was on a plane somewhere between New Mexico and New York.

He was  _ exhausted _ . He was starting to think this job was going to kill him. He finally understood why everyone he’d been introduced to his first day had kept wishing him luck.

Mr. Kish’s private jet was fitted out rather ostentatiously in gold brocade and dark wood, but it was actually really comfortable. Shirou had not been on many planes, and he certainly had never been on one he would describe as being comfortable. The interior of this particular plane looked more like a high-end RV than an airplane. If it weren’t for the loud roar of the engines and the occasional turbulence, Shirou would have been convinced they were still on the ground. It even had a bedroom at the back end of the plane.

Despite the presence of that bedroom, Mr. Kish was sound asleep in the chair across from Shirou. A long way across from Shirou, on the other side of a polished table that was positioned between the two facing rows of seats. The man had his seat reclined, and was leaning back with his arms crossed and his mouth hanging slightly open. He’d had a glass of wine immediately after takeoff, and then fallen asleep as soon as he’d finished it.

Shirou would like to have been asleep. In fact, he hadn’t really slept since Friday night, except for a short two-hour nap at the hotel after they’d arrived. He’d been working the entire time. Adjusting schedules, arranging for the pilots, arranging for the plane, arranging for transportation on the ground, organizing Mr. Kish’s long and arduous meeting with the heads of the new manufacturing plant he was trying to open, taking notes at said meeting, touring the facility, finding restaurants for lunch and dinner, making calls, talking to lawyers, and wine shopping because whoever was in charge of keeping the bar on the plane stocked had not followed Mr. Kish’s instructions.

Mr. Kish had already slept on the way  _ to  _ New Mexico, although Shirou was not sure if he’d slept at the hotel at all. Either way, he was now apparently content to sleep the entire way back, while Shirou had spent the flight there making calls and was now spending this flight getting all of the day’s expense reports straightened out. They were probably an hour into the four-hour flight, and Shirou was  _ almost _ done, and then he too could take a brief nap.

Well, he’d expected this job to be grueling, and he was certainly being paid enough to compensate for losing his Sunday. He was a little disappointed his first weekend work for Mr. Kish had been pure work and not a social event, but he also felt like he’d done very well for his first emergency. Mr. Kish hadn’t praised him, but the impression Shirou got was that the sun would go supernova before Mr. Kish praised someone.

In fact he ended up falling asleep before he was completely finished, his fingers still poised on the keys of his tablet’s keyboard.

He woke with a start when one of his hands, jarred by turbulence, fell off the keyboard and smacked hard against his seat’s armrest. He was unable to figure out for a moment why his seat was shaking, and why the room was so dim, before he recalled where he was. He squinted at the laptop’s clock. He couldn't have been asleep for more than thirty minutes. He felt more tired than ever.

He stretched, glad that he'd taken his jacket off before they'd taken off, but wishing he'd removed his vest as well. He'd had these suits tailored for him, but how well they fit meant they tended to bunch up when slouching in an airplane seat. He glanced up at Mr Kish, wondering how he was possibly comfortable sleeping in his own suit, which he hadn't even removed the jacket of, and he met the other man’s crimson eyes watching him.

“Do you need something?” he asked, embarrassed that he'd been caught sleeping.

Mr. Kish didn't say anything. He continued to watch Shirou, and Shirou nervously got back to work. It was hard to ignore the eyes on him, and even harder to resist the urge to glance up periodically in case their eyes met again, because if that happened he was going to blush.

By the time he was done the expense report and dared to look back up, Mr. Kish had fallen asleep again. This time, Shirou rather shamelessly stared at his boss. Unlike many people Shirou had known in the past, Mr. Kish looked less attractive sleeping. His intensity was a large part of what made him so handsome, and that was gone with his eyes closed and his face slack. On the other hand, his sleeping vulnerability humanized him. Shirou couldn’t help but feel privileged to even be able to see it. For a man like Gilgamesh Kish, falling asleep must be a sign of trust, at least to some degree, especially since he could have gone back to use the plane’s bedroom rather than sleep out in the open.

Even more so, because when he was asleep the miniscule signs of age and stress his face showed were much clearer. The subtle creases between his brows and at the corners of his mouth stood out with his expression so relaxed. Shirou felt it was telling that there were no real wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Quietly, Shirou got up and went to the cockpit door to poke his head in and ask how much longer the flight would be. Only another hour and a half, but a short nap was better than no nap at all. He took off his vest and loosened his tie so he could undo his top button before putting his tablet away and reclining the seat. He set his phone’s timer to go off in an hour, and also made sure it would only vibrate, tucking it into his pocket so he’d be able to feel it when it did, and he fell asleep.

* * *

The phone’s vibration startled him awake again. This time as he stretched he glanced up to see that Mr. Kish was still sleeping. He was. Shirou got up again and used the toilet before taking Mr. Kish’s wineglass and securing it and the bottle he’d left out in the bar. He probably should have done that earlier, and he was lucky nothing had fallen over or spilled. He’d never really considered that he might need to play flight attendant for this job. He sat down again just as the pilot crackled onto the intercom and suggested the passengers might want to sit down and buckle in as they would be starting descent.

That apparently woke Mr. Kish back up. “Get me some water,” he said.

Shirou paused in straightening his tie and went back over to the bar. There were small bottles of water there. He opened one. “Is it okay in the bottle?” he asked.

“Whatever,” Mr. Kish said, reaching out for it. Shirou handed the bottle over, along with its cap, and Mr. Kish took a long swig before screwing the cap back on and putting it down.

“We’re landing soon,” Shirou said. He put his vest and jacket back on and sat down to strap in.

“I heard,” Mr. Kish said.

In the entire week he’d been working for this man, they hadn’t once had an actual conversation. Mr. Kish only spoke to him to give him instructions or to answer his questions. Shirou couldn’t tell if his boss disliked him, or if that’s just the way he was, although he was plenty eloquent with other people.

Even now, Mr. Kish seemed content to just let silence stretch between them. Or maybe not that content. He seemed slightly disgruntled, actually. Shirou was back to studiously avoiding looking at him, though, so he couldn’t really guess as to a cause. He looked out the window instead, admiring the lights of the cities below them.

Eventually, Mr. Kish did speak again. “I want you to call someone and arrange for them to meet me at my house in two hours,” he said.

In two hours it would nearly be 5:00 in the morning. “Yes?” he said.

There was a pad of paper on the table, along with a cup that had a single pen in it. Mr. Kish picked up the pen and wrote something on the paper, then slid it forcefully across to Shirou.

Shirou barely stopped the pad from sailing off the end of the table. The name he’d scrawled was just “Crystal,” and the number was a New York area code. Mr. Kish stared out the window as Shirou dialed, hoping that, whoever this person was, they were actually going to pick up the phone at three in the morning.

“Hi,” answered a breathy, female voice after only two rings.

“Hello,” he replied. “I’m calling on behalf of Gilgamesh Kish—”

“Oh, he wants me to come over? Sure thing, honey. Who’s this though?”

“He requested you meet him at his home in two hours,” Shirou said, wondering if she would have gone straight there.

“Yeah, sure. I guess you’re his new office bitch? Didn’t think he’d have a guy for that.”

“Um—”

“Tell him he still owes me for the last time, though. I’m not coming over again without getting paid, especially if he’s gonna call me up at this hour.”

“Well—”

“You sound pretty cute. Introduce yourself to me sometime. Bye!”

The woman hung up without another word. Shirou held his phone in front of him and raised an eyebrow. Had he just called a prostitute for his boss? Had that actually just happened?

Determined to stay professional, he locked his phone and put it back in his pocket. “She asked me to let you know that you have not paid her,” he said.

“As long as she’s coming,” Mr. Kish replied, waving his hand vaguely in the air without looking away from the window.

Shirou understood that, while he was on the company payroll, as Mr. Kish’s personal assistant he would also be taking care of some private things for his boss, such as arranging vacations, assisting during social functions, and making sure various menial household tasks got done. But… he wasn’t really sure about hiring a prostitute. Was that even legal?

There was no way, if his predecessor had been doing the same, that particular detail wouldn’t have come out in the tabloids. Unless it had? Shirou didn’t exactly spend much time reading celebrity gossip. Maybe he should start.

* * *

Apparently having seen his boss sleeping had freed Shirou’s subconscious in some way, and he kept dreaming about Mr. Kish. Either that, or it was calling the prostitute that had done it.

Having his boss show up in his dreams probably wasn't abnormal. His dreams were normally populated by the people who were around him on a regular basis. The problem was he consciously wanted his boss to bang him, and so his subconscious definitely had jumped on that train. Not even knowing Mr. Kish regularly patronized prostitutes had changed that.

He got into the habit of hovering just behind Mr. Kish at all times, so he didn’t have to see his face. The unusual coloring of Mr. Kish’s eyes that lent so strongly to the intensity of his expression was definitely haunting Shirou. In his dreams, the man always held his gaze, and his eyes were so captivating Shirou couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. It was hard not to wonder if he would really be so intense in the bedroom.

When he was sitting in on a meeting and taking notes, he did not want that kind of thought floating through his mind. And yet, it kept happening.

“How do you stop dreaming?” he asked Artoria one night while they were having dinner on the couch. They didn't eat dinner at home together that often, but she had off that day and had gotten all her recording in early, so he'd cooked something for them both.

“I don't really dream,” she said. “Why?”

He considered lying for a split second, but she could always tell when he was so he didn't bother. “I keep dreaming about Mr. Kish,” he said, miserably.

She raised an eyebrow. “You mean sexy dreams?”

“What other kind of dreams would anyone have about that man!” Shirou said, burying his face in his hands. “It's torture. The other night I had one of those ‘went to work without putting pants on’ kinds of dreams and--”

“Shirou. No.”

“Sorry.”

“There's probably nothing you can do about it. It's not like you can control your dreams, right?”

“I could drink myself to sleep every night so I don't remember them,” Shirou said.

“Don't.”

“I know, I know.” He let himself slide down the couch until his knees bumped against the coffee table and stayed like that until the show they were watching ended.

He got up immediately to take the dishes they’d used back to the kitchen and wash them. Artoria used to insist on helping, but washing dishes was not actually amongst her many talents, and they didn’t have a dishwasher. Several broken plates and finding things put away with bits of food still stuck to them later, Shirou had banned her from assisting, and she had acquiesced only upon being confronted with two plates that were actually cemented together in the cupboard.

When he finished washing up, he looked up to see that Artoria had turned around and was leaning on the arm of the couch, watching him. “Maybe your brother could write you a prescription for sleeping pills?” she suggested.

Shirou made a face. “To start, Archer would never write me a prescription just because I asked for it. To finish, I am not explaining to Archer why I needed sleeping pills.”

“Hmm, can’t you buy over the counter ones? Maybe that would work?”

He considered. “It could be worth a try.”

She looked back over her shoulder to check the clock on their DVR. “If you want to go now, I’ll go with you.”

Ignoring the clear implication he needed an escort when going out late at night, he waved his hand. “I should probably wait until the weekend to try something like that. If I react badly to them, getting to work late would be worse than having those dreams.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, because I’d probably get yelled at by the man himself, and then I’d have to look him in the eye, which is what I’ve been trying to avoid for most of the week.”

“Oh.”

“Although I’m going to be busy this weekend, too… There’s that thing for Medea on Sunday, assuming I don’t have to fly unexpectedly to New Mexico again.”

Artoria smiled at that. “Oh yeah. I can’t believe you agreed to model for her. But is it gonna be okay, with your new job?”

“It’s fine. I cleared it with HR to be sure. Since it’s just a small show, and there won’t be any big press there, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’re so diligent. I’m surprised they said yes, though. Does your boss know?”

“Hell no.”

“Maybe you can get Medea a brand deal with Uruk.”

“She hates Uruk.”

“Yeah, but she likes money. Is she even paying you to model?”

Shirou smiled. “She’s paying me.”

“She’s just letting you keep what you wear for the show, isn’t she.”

“That’s payment! Are you going, by the way?”

Artoria sighed. “Yeah, Rin invited me. Archer’s out of town that day?”

“Yeah, Dad wants him to look at this horrific house upstate. He wants to buy it, I think. It was supposed to be me, but Archer made some snide remark about me being too much of a city boy and Dad took that as him volunteering. Plus, I’d already said yes to Medea.”

“Is your dad really going to move out of the city?” Artoria asked.

Shirou’s father was a little strange, but Artoria had taken a shine to him for some reason Shirou didn't really understand. “I doubt it. He brings it up periodically as a thing to do when he retires but he always ends up dropping it. I think he's worried Archer and I wouldn't visit, honestly.”

How had this conversation gone from him dreaming about fucking his boss to his dad’s retirement plans? “I think it's about time for bed for me,” he said.

“Okay. I need to do some leveling before I record tomorrow so I'm going to be up a while. Scream at me if I wake you up.”

He started to walk away, and then stopped. “Did you ever call the landlord about the lightswitch in the bathroom?” It currently required a very delicate touch to actually work.

“No! I didn’t. I’ll do it first thing tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.”


	3. Chapter 3

Monday morning, Shirou woke up with a raging boner, the result of a very involved dream in which Mr. Kish had also modeled in Medea’s show and had dragged Shirou into the bathroom to have his way with him after it.

He resolved to stop at the drugstore on his way home from work that day. He couldn't go on like this much longer. Risking being a little out of it at work in the morning was better than popping an erection in the middle of a meeting.

It was only ten minutes until his alarm was going to go off, so he got up and went to the bathroom to have a shower. Artoria was never awake this early, since her videos could be filmed anytime and her other job was normally an evening kind of thing, so he had the privacy to take as long a shower as he needed without anyone questioning it.

Once he was finished, he inspected the clothes hanging in his wardrobe. He was running out of space, and the three new suits Medea had given him were still hanging on the coat hooks in the living room. He had wanted to wear one of them, but just thinking about them reminded him of his dream, so he chose the vintage suit Rin had given him for Christmas the previous year instead. He left the jacket hanging, a matching tie draped over it, and made breakfast and a quick lunch he could take in with him. He was starting to worry about the amount of take-out he'd been eating, especially combined with him having no time for the gym lately. After that, he tied his tie, put his jacket on, and gave himself a once-over in the mirror before heading out the door.

His timing getting to the subway station was perfect. His train was just pulling in when he got to the platform. He never sat on the train in the morning, even when there were seats available. He tended to brace himself against one of the poles and read a paperback, usually something true crime or a legal thriller. He'd found if he read while sitting he had a tendency to miss his stop.

He got to work with plenty of time to spare and started making Mr. Kish’s coffee before going back to his desk to plan out the week in detail.

Medusa came in before he'd even been sitting for five minutes. “Good morning,” she said. She put a folder on his desk. “This is the history of the New Mexico plant, including descriptions of what was done to retrofit it for Uruk’s production and a list of what was sent to auction from the building after it was purchased.”

“Thanks,” he said, picking up the folder and flipping quickly through the pages. He'd already seen that she'd emailed him a file, late Friday night, but Mr. Kish preferred to read hard copies.

He finished the week and then started going through the report. He read through the whole thing first, highlighting parts he thought were probably important, then started a second read through before realizing that it was now nearly ten o’clock and Mr. Kish had not yet arrived at the office.

Shirou checked his phone for messages, worried he’d missed a call, then checked his email. He got up and cracked Mr. Kish’s office door in case he’d shown up and just had not indicated it, though he usually opened the door himself so Shirou would know to pour him his coffee. The office was, in fact, empty. He left the door cracked, then sat back down at his desk and pulled up the online livestream of one of the local news channels just in case there was something there that would explain the delay.

To his surprise, there was a reporter outside the building. A whole crowd of reporters, actually. He tried to catch up on what they were talking about, but mostly they were just saying no one had yet seen Gilgamesh Kish arrive at the building. He pulled up a news aggregator instead and looked at the headlines. “Uruk Tech factory fire” was the first one. He didn’t need to read the rest of the article to know what must have happened.

Shirou, unable to resist, went back into Mr. Kish’s office to look out the window. He took the folder Medusa had brought in with him as an excuse, on the off chance his boss had managed to come in without him noticing. It was impossible to see the sidewalk directly in front of the building from this angle, but he could see news vans parked across the street.

The New Mexico factory had been plagued with problems from before Uruk had even acquired it, although from Medusa’s report, a lot of the issues had been downplayed or outright misrepresented when the deal was made. The building had never quite been to code, apparently, and the added assembly equipment had taxed its faulty wiring to the limit. What the headlines weren’t saying, though, was that Mr. Kish had halted production at the factory as a result of his visit the weekend before, and that the only employees who might possibly have been at the site were building inspectors or their contractors trying to figure out what fixes and updates needed to be made. The scandal was really in the internal investigation going on within Uruk to find out if the employees in charge of the acquisition and retrofitting of the factory had any responsibility for the situation, and he doubted anyone was talking about that.

Just as he was setting the folder with Medusa’s report on the desk, the door to Mr. Kish’s private room opened and he came in. Shirou froze in place, fairly certain his boss was not going to be in a very good mood on a morning like this. Mr. Kish only stared at him blankly before walking to his desk to sit down. He put his feet up on the desktop and leaned back. “Get me some coffee,” he said.

Shirou felt Mr. Kish’s eyes on him the whole time he was checking to make sure the coffee was still hot, then pouring it. He carried it to the desk, but he didn’t leave right away. 

His boss always dressed well for work, despite riding a motorcycle to the office every day. He usually changed as soon as he got to the building, but today he hadn’t. He was still wearing his motorcycle pants, but he’d taken the jacket off and was just wearing a white t-shirt. A very  _ tight _ white t-shirt, Shirou couldn’t help but observe. “Will you be scheduling a press conference?” Shirou asked.

Mr. Kish heaved an almost cartoonish sigh. “Yeah, cancel whatever else was happening this afternoon. I want Scott and Kim in for it too,” he said.

“Medusa brought the report you’d asked for,” he said, putting his hand on the folder. “I’ve already read through it. Do you want me to go ahead and write the press release?”

His boss looked up at him. His expression was hard to read. Shirou thought it might be gratitude in his eyes, but that was probably wishful thinking. “Yes, do that. I’ll read this.”

Shirou went back to his desk to notice his phone must have been ringing the entire time he’d been in Mr. Kish’s office. There were sixteen messages. All but two of them were from various press agencies looking for a comment. Of the other two, one was a company lawyer, whose message Shirou forwarded to Mr. Kish, and the other was Mr. Scott, the head of the company’s PR department, asking what Mr. Kish wanted as a statement. He called Mr. Scott back immediately. “Oh thank god,” Mr. Scott said, as soon as he picked up the phone.

“Mr. Kish was late,” Shirou said. “I’ve got fresh information on the factory, so I’m going to write something for the press and send it down for you. Mr. Kish wants a press conference this afternoon, with you and Ms. Kim on it.”

“Okay, I’ll set that up. No comment to any reporters who call, all right?”

“Yeah, I know the drill.”

* * *

The rest of the morning went by quickly. Shirou wrote the press release, sent it on its way, and fielded phone calls all morning. It got to the point where he wished he could just have his phone calls all forward directly to PR, but he’d probably get into some trouble for that. The press conference was scheduled for 12:30, which didn’t leave a lot of time for lunch. He ate his standing up in the kitchenette between Mr. Kish’s office and the board room, listening through the wall to Mr. Kish quickly losing his patience with whoever he was on the phone with. His boss had told him to make sure there was something for him to eat after the press conference, so as soon as he was finished he called out for delivery.

His presence wasn’t explicitly required at the actual press conference, and he didn’t relish the idea of all Rin’s strange fans seeing him on TV so that was fine with him. He watched it on his computer from his office instead, until his phone rang to let him know Mr. Kish’s lunch had arrived, at which point he went down to the lobby to get it. He paid for it and started heading back to the elevator.

“Hey, Shirou!”

He turned to see who had called him. He’d befriended one of the security guards after he’d gotten caught in that paparazzi’s photo. Or, rather, the guard had befriended him, because, as it turned out, he was a fan of Artoria’s YouTube channel and apparently had seen one of Rin’s videos Shirou had been in. Shirou had been skeptical of the guy at first, because he’d already asked a couple of times if Shirou could introduce him to Artoria, but he wasn’t really a bad guy.

“Hey, Kojirou,” he said. “Rough morning, huh?”

“Tell me about it. The reporters have stopped trying to sneak in now that the press conference is actually happening at least. I don’t know where they think they’re going to go if they do get in, honestly. It’s just a pain in the ass.”

“Who knows? They’ve been calling all morning too. They can’t possibly think Mr. Kish is going to answer the phone.”

“It’ll die down after the conference. Anyway, it’s not going to be huge news since no one was hurt in the fire, right? That’s what I heard, anyway. No deaths, no big scandal.”

“I was there when he ordered it shut down,” Shirou said. “A lot of people were pissed about that, but I’m sure they’re glad now.”

“Yeah, I bet. Hopefully no one’s gonna lose a job over it. That would suck.”

“I’m not going to comment on that one,” Shirou said, laughing. “The situation’s pretty complicated.”

Kojirou laughed. “No worries. I’m not trying to fish for inside information here. Keep an eye out that no unscrupulous reporters follow you home or anything. If you want I can give you an escort.”

“And if you happen to meet Artoria, all the better?” Shirou asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed again. “Am I that transparent? But I do mean it. Stay safe.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Shirou said. “More than likely I’m gonna be stuck here late tonight, anyway.”

“Well, tell the guys on the night shift hello for me.”

Shirou went back upstairs. Mr. Kish had not returned, so he pulled the live feed of the press conference back up. He was actually surprised it was still going on. There wasn’t really that much to say. The warehouse had not been to code, and production in it had shut down while they fixed that. The fire was unfortunate, but no one had been hurt…

He listened for a bit. It sounded like there were claims the fire had been part of an insurance scam, which made next to no sense. If it were part of any kind of conspiracy, it would be to get more money out of the company that had built the warehouse in the lawsuit Uruk was no doubt going to be building against them. No insurance payout was going to make up for the loss in sales not having the factory running was going to cause.

Then again, Mr. Kish was known for having a legendary temper when it came to the press. He wondered if these reporters were just trying to provoke him. He could tell by the deep scowl on his boss’s face that if that was the intent it was working, but Mr. Scott was the head of PR for a reason. He put Ms. Kim in charge of answering all further questions, and gave Mr. Kish an excuse to leave.

Shirou hurried to get his boss’s lunch onto his desk, although he suspected Mr. Kish was not going to be in the mood to eat. That suspicion was confirmed when he came into the office, walked right past Shirou and his desk, and opened a cabinet to reveal a rather large collection of wine bottles Shirou had not previously seen, along with a few glasses. He poured himself a glass, then walked back to his desk, bringing the bottle with him. He sat down in his chair heavily after unbuttoning his jacket one-handed. Shirou was surprised he didn’t manage to spill the wine. “Should I put your lunch in the fridge for later?” he asked, although he probably should have just done it without asking.

“Whatever,” Mr. Kish said.

Shirou hadn’t actually taken anything out of the delivery bag yet, so he just picked it back up. He felt again that Mr. Kish was watching him as he walked across the office to get to the kitchenette.

He came back in, but didn’t go all the way back to Mr. Kish’s desk. “Do you need anything else?” he asked.

“Right now all I need is this glass of wine,” his boss said. “If anyone else calls, tell them to go fuck themselves.”

“Uh, right,” Shirou said. He felt like he’d underestimated how irritated his boss actually was. He left the office and closed the door behind him.

He didn’t get much else done that afternoon. While he was fairly certain Mr. Kish was going to want to head back to New Mexico, he didn’t want to schedule anything until he’d actually been given the instruction. Thankfully, no one important called, just more reporters looking for comments.

Around 4:00, Mr. Kish came out of his office. Shirou didn’t notice the door opening as he was having trouble trying to get a reporter off the line, and he jumped as his boss leaned over him, took the phone out of his hand, and hung it up. “Um,” he said, not sure if he should be protesting. Mr. Kish was far too close to him and his mind went straight to the gutter as he couldn’t help but notice the pleasant, floral scent his hair had.

Mr. Kish straightened back up and Shirou turned his desk chair to actually look at him. “Do you speak Japanese?” he asked.

The question was unexpected. Maybe Shirou should have been annoyed that Mr. Kish must never have looked at his resume at all, but it didn’t seem worth it. He was too curious as to why it was relevant. “Yes,” he said.

“Good. I need you this Saturday to entertain an acquaintance's wife. She doesn’t speak English.”

“Saturday? Is it a party?” he asked.

“No, I’m buying something from him. Come at 5:00.”

Shirou nodded.

“Tomorrow there’s an emergency board meeting. Arrange a lunch before it. After that, we fly to New Mexico. When you get those things arranged you can go home.”

“Yes, sir,” Shirou said.

Mr. Kish gave him a strange look, then turned and went back into his office. Shirou got to work making the necessary arrangements.

* * *

When he got home after stopping by the drug store to buy the sleeping pills he wanted, Artoria was out. She didn’t spend evenings out often unless she was working, which, according to the calendar they had hanging beside the front door, she was not. He wondered if Rin had invited her somewhere. He checked his phone in case he’d missed a text from her, but he didn’t see one. He sent her a quick query instead.

It was possible she’d just gone to buy something, or even was just out for a run, although she usually worked out in the morning so her bodyguard gigs didn’t mess up her workout schedule. He decided not to worry about her quite yet, and went to hang his jacket up. She was often slow to respond to texts due to keeping her phone on silent mode while recording and forgetting to turn the sound back on. He wanted to wait until he got a reply before he started making anything for dinner, since at this point he didn’t know if he was cooking for just himself or both of them, so he sat down on the couch with the book he was reading instead.

A reply came about twenty minutes later.  _ Out with Rin. She kidnapped me. _

_ Will you be coming back for dinner? _ he typed back.

_ She’s treating me _ .

Well, that answered that. He closed his book, stood up, and stretched. Honestly, he didn’t really feel like cooking. On the other hand, who knew when he’d get a home-cooked meal again with everything going on at work. Mr. Kish had not specified how long they would be in New Mexico, after all.

He decided to just not bother with anything complicated. There was a selection of leftovers in the refrigerator, so he reheated some spaghetti and cream sauce and threw some chicken and broccoli in. He ate while watching TV, a sitcom he used to like but had stopped watching last season.

Artoria coming home woke him up. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. “Long day?” she asked, coming in through the kitchen and raising an eyebrow at him.

Shirou found the remote where it had fallen to the floor and switched off the TV. “I guess you haven’t seen the news?”

“Something happen?” She stepped aside to let him pass as he picked up the bowl he’d been eating out of and took it into the kitchen.

“There was a big fire at the Uruk factory in New Mexico,” he said. “The one I was at, when was that? Two weeks ago?”

“Wow, really? Anyone hurt?”

“No, it was shut down while they fixed wiring issues. I’m probably going to be going with Mr. Kish down there tomorrow, though, so I may not be around much this week. I think I’ll be back by the weekend.”

“Ah, really? So Rin kidnapped me the only night this week I was going to get a home-cooked meal, huh?”

“You can cook for yourself,” he said, “as long as I’m not around to have to watch it.”

“How rude.”

Shirou got to work washing the dishes. “What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s 10:15. Rin made Archer pick us up but it took longer to drive home than it would have taken on the train, I think.”

“Wow, I was asleep for a while.”

“If you need to go to bed, I can finish up with the dishes,” Artoria offered.

“I’m almost done,” Shirou said, quickly, as he scrubbed the pot he’d cooked his pasta in.

“I can at least help dry stuff,” she said, coming over and picking up the kitchen towel and the bowl he’d already put in the drainboard.

“Thanks.”

* * *

The next morning Shirou had a lot of trouble waking up. Despite falling asleep so easily on the couch, as soon as he’d gotten into his actual bed all he’d been able to think about was how nice Mr. Kish had smelled when he’d leaned over to take the phone. After tossing and turning until around one in the morning he’d finally gotten up and taken one of the sleeping pills he’d bought. If he was going to use the pills again, he definitely needed to do it earlier.

He took a bag he’d packed before going to bed with him to work. It was a pain in the ass to carry it on the train, and he had no real idea how long he’d be in New Mexico for, but he’d decided to err on the side of caution and take more than just an overnight bag. He wondered what Mr. Kish would be bringing, and had a stupid mental image for a moment of his boss trying to manage a suitcase while riding his motorcycle.

Halfway to the office, he got a text from Rin with a screengrab of some Instagram account. He scowled when he realized it was a picture of him on the train from yesterday.  _ You made hotdudesreading! _

_ What the hell is this _ , he replied to her. He hadn’t even tried to get his book out this morning, with his bag and his backpack to contend with.

_ Instagram account for people to send their creepshots of hot guys with books, obviously _ , was her reply. She followed that up with,  _ Nerd. _

He opened Instagram and searched for the account. Sure enough, it was real, and he was definitely on it. And there were definitely comments identifying him as “Redhead” from Rin’s videos. He sometimes really wondered why he was friends with her. He also, after scrolling through the account’s other posts, followed it. Maybe it was inappropriate, but he couldn’t say he really disapproved of the subject matter.

Instagram was the only social media he really indulged in. He had a Facebook, but he only used it to keep track of old friends and didn’t really make any posts. He had pointedly not friended Rin there, less her stalker fanbase find him that way. She had very grudgingly agreed not to post any photos with him on her account so Facebook’s algorithms wouldn’t give him away. He was mutual followers with her on Instagram, but he didn’t post selfies, and he didn’t have his real name attached to it or it linked to his Facebook, so he didn’t really care about that. He mostly just posted photos of food and books, anyway.

Rin had been after him to make a Twitter account for a while. He didn’t really understand the point, though, and his job was sensitive enough that he’d feel uncomfortable posting while at work. Was he supposed to just post things like, “Good morning! Leaving for work a little early today” or what? Artoria was a heavy Twitter user, but she had a fanbase to interact with.

He thought about all those comments on the picture of him reading and scowled. Technically he had a fanbase himself, but not one he was at all comfortable with indulging.

* * *

When he finally got to work, he ended up ducking into the parking garage and going inside that way. There weren’t as many reporters outside as there had been the previous day, but somehow the official press conference hadn’t deterred a lot of them. Probably somehow they’d gotten wind of the emergency board meeting.

Shirou had planned to stash his traveling bag in the kitchenette, but he froze in the doorway to Mr. Kish’s office when he saw his boss already at his desk, reading the morning paper and drinking coffee.

The man looked up at him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sorry, I didn't realize you were here,” Shirou said. He backed up, closing the door behind him. Then he went the long way around, through the board room, to put his bag on top of the fridge in the kitchenette. Then he got to work.

This was his first board meeting, and he had a lot of documents to prepare, and only about three hours to do it in. He went to the library to enlist Medusa’s aid. She wasn't thrilled but agreed to help, since she already had most of the files.

With her assistance and what he had actually managed to do the previous day between all the phone calls, everything was ready by the time the caterer arrived. Medusa offered to print and bind everything while he dealt with getting lunch set up.

Mr. Kish had not given any specific instructions as to how to serve lunch, so Shirou followed the guide he’d found on his first day there. Once everything was set up, he went to let Mr. Kish know it was ready. He knew he wouldn’t be sitting in on the meeting, so he figured he could use the rest of the time to finish arrangements for them heading to New Mexico when it was done.

* * *

The meeting lasted more than three hours. Shirou had not had any real frame of reference for how long it would be, so he’d decided to just be ready for anything, but he had arranged for the jet to be ready at 2:30 and it was nearly 3:30 now. He was probably going to need to have some food ready for Mr. Kish on the plane, or as soon as they got off it at least. Room service would probably be fine for that, but he called ahead to get the menu. After that, it was just waiting.

Mr. Kish returned to his office, walking past Shirou’s desk without speaking to him. He looked annoyed, and let the door close behind him. Shirou didn’t move from his desk, in case any of the other board members also came in, but after ten minutes passed it was clear no one was going to. He got up and knocked on the office door, then cracked it open. “Sir?” he asked.

“What?” Mr. Kish said.

“Are we still heading to the factory site?”

“Yes.”

“Should I call the car? Do you have any luggage?”

“Have it pick us up in the garage. I have a suitcase in here. Tell me when the car’s here.”

Shirou shut the door and called the car, then the pilot.

The car arrived within half an hour. Shirou opened the door again to let Mr. Kish know. “Come in here. We’ll take my elevator down,” Mr. Kish said.

Shirou was surprised at that. It was going to be his first glimpse into his boss’s private room. He ducked into the kitchenette to grab his bag, then followed Mr. Kish through the door into what looked more than anything like a nicely fitted sitting room. What surprised him was that the large couch in the center of the room had a couple of pillows and a blanket on it. Had Mr. Kish slept here overnight? Was that why he’d been there so early that morning? If that was the case, where had his suitcase come from?

He was so distracted by this that he failed to get a good look around the rest of the room before the elevator in the corner dinged open. Since Mr. Kish was the only person who used it, Shirou supposed it had already been on this floor, just waiting. He followed his boss in, wrangling both his bag and Mr. Kish’s suitcase, although the latter thankfully had wheels.

The elevator was quite small. Shirou thought this was probably the closest he’d been to his boss for the longest length of time, although him leaning over Shirou to take the phone out of his hand the previous day sprang into his mind. The floral scent he’d noticed then was more obvious in the elevator. It seemed a little odd that a man like Gilgamesh Kish wouldn’t use a more masculine cologne, but Shirou wasn’t complaining. The scent suited him, somehow, even as he stood impatiently in the elevator with his arms crossed and an irritated expression on his face.

Despite the intimate atmosphere of the elevator, Shirou didn’t actually have the guts to ask Mr. Kish about dinner. He was pretty hungry, and while he knew the bar on the plane had some snacks, he wasn’t looking forward to the long flight on an empty stomach. New Mexico was two hours earlier than New York, but it wasn’t like his stomach was going to notice the difference.

He’d persevere. If this trip was anything like the last one, Mr. Kish would have a glass or two of wine and then sleep the rest of the flight, and if his boss was asleep Shirou felt like he could follow suit. He couldn't be hungry if he was asleep.

To his surprise, Mr. Kish was actually in a chatty mood when they got on the plane. He'd asked Shirou to pour him a glass of wine before they took off, which seemed like a recipe for spilt wine to Shirou but he obliged. Then Mr. Kish sat, looking at the wine in his glass, before looking up at Shirou. “You can have a glass as well,” he said.

Shirou shook his head. “Thanks, but I'll pass. I don't do well with wine.”

“There's should be some other choices under the bar.”

“I don't do well with alcohol in general,” Shirou explained. He was perpetually embarrassed at his inability to hold his liquor, although at least it mostly just made him sleepy and giggly, and he had yet to do anything fantastically stupid while drunk. Still, he wasn't going to let the first time for that he on a private jet with his boss. “I’ll just have a bottle of water.” He proceeded to get one from the minifridge beneath the bar.

When he turned back around, he caught Mr. Kish looking disappointed for a fleeting moment before the man smiled. “It’s too early to be drinking this anyway,” he said. He put his glass down on the table between them, and it rattled ominously against the tabletop as the jet started taxiing toward the runway. Shirou eyed it nervously as he quickly sat down and buckled his seatbelt. He’d forgotten to take off his jacket yet again, although this time he’d at least had the sense to not wear a waistcoat.

Mr. Kish picked the glass up again when they reached the runway and began picking up speed. Shirou watched as he took a sip even as the plane started its upward incline. He didn’t spill a single drop of it.

Because he was focused on the glass of wine, it took him until they’d leveled off in the air to realize that Mr. Kish was watching his face just as intently as he had been watching the wine. He definitely noticed that Shirou had caught him watching, but didn’t do anything except take another sip of wine, then put the glass back down on the table. Shirou couldn’t hold that gaze for long before he fumbled around getting his bottle of water open, drinking some, and putting it on the table as well.

“What is our itinerary?” Mr. Kish asked, dropping his focus from Shirou’s face as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket to look at it.

Shirou was actually startled by the sound of his voice, and hastily got his tablet out from the backpack he’d put on the seat next to him. He opened to the calendar, which automatically synced to Mr. Kish’s own, and went through it with his boss. Nothing tonight. Tomorrow morning the Uruk PR representative would arrive, and there was a tour of the factory and a meeting with a select group of employees from the factory, including the employees who had raised the alarm about the issues, whom Mr. Kish had already met on their first trip there before shutting the factory down, and the union heads. Thursday would be the press conference, and anything else that needed wrapping up. They were scheduled to return Friday morning at the moment, although that could be moved up to Thursday if necessary, or pushed back to Friday evening. Mr. Kish’s meeting with his Japanese acquaintance was still on Saturday, and Shirou had not inquired about needing to move it. He was hoping Mr. Kish would give him Friday afternoon off once they’d gotten back, although he had no intention of actually asking for it.

Apparently satisfied with the schedule, Mr. Kish put his phone down on the table and picked up his wine glass again. He also returned to watching Shirou as he drank, his expression contemplative. “You’re a very efficient personal assistant,” he said.

“Um, thank you,” Shirou replied. He had not been expecting a compliment like that, not from Gilgamesh Kish.

“Was this your career goal all along? You have a business degree from NYU, don’t you?”

So Mr. Kish  _ had _ looked at his resumé at some point. “I won’t say it was exactly a final career goal when I started,” Shirou admitted. “But I got my initial position due to luck, and it suits me, so I’m pretty satisfied with it.”

“My previous assistants never had much ambition,” Mr. Kish said. “Most of them quit when they realized I actually expected a lot from them. I’ve gone through so many I’d given up on actually finding a good one.”

Shirou supposed that was a compliment, albeit a somewhat backhanded one. He also was starting to feel like he was being interviewed, his third week on the job. He hesitated before responding, “To be perfectly frank, you don’t really need all that much managing. If I was new to this sort of thing I’d assume that was the way things were supposed to be, but I did a lot more for my previous boss. I guess if you’d had unreliable assistants in the past it makes sense. I hope you can rely on me a little better.”

Mr. Kish cocked his head slightly to the side, the gesture cat-like. “I’m used to self-reliance,” he said. “If I weren’t so important, I wouldn’t bother with an assistant at all. It’s not worth it just to keep up appearances.”

That self-admission wasn’t the kind of thing Shirou normally heard. He couldn’t argue that Gilgamesh Kish wasn’t important, at least to Uruk specifically and the tech industry in general, but normally someone wouldn’t put it into words the way he just had. It was clear Mr. Kish was expecting a response, however, so Shirou just went with his gut. “Historically most important people have at least one trusted ally backing them up.”

His boss’s sudden laugh startled him. “You aren’t anything like my previous assistants,” Mr. Kish said. “It’s refreshing. Let’s continue to work together.” He held up his glass as if toasting Shirou before taking another sip.

Shirou held up his own bottle of water. He didn’t really have a good reply, and in fact the gentle vibration of the jet around him was reminding him he had not gotten a full night’s sleep the previous night. He was sleepy as well as hungry, and he wasn’t really sure how much longer he was going to be able to carry on a civilized conversation. At the same time, this was the most curiosity Mr. Kish had ever shown about him personally, so he thought he should at least make an effort. “What about you?” he asked.

“About me?” Mr. Kish said.

Shirou felt himself blush a little. “I mean, when did you decide you were going to found a groundbreaking tech company?”

Mr. Kish chuckled. “That was my plan from pretty early on. I’m sure you’ve read about all that, though.”

Shirou had read about it. He’d read a lot about Uruk and Gilgamesh Kish before the merger that had brought him to this position. He wondered if it was arrogant for Mr. Kish to assume he had, though. “You’ve always been the ideas guy, right?”

“I could build a computer if I needed to,” Mr. Kish said, “But I’m not a programmer. And I don’t do R&D anymore, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Do you miss the hands-on stuff?”

“No.”

Shirou waited, expecting Mr. Kish to elaborate on that answer. He still felt like he was in an interview, although now he felt like he was on the other end of it. But Mr. Kish had gone silent, looking into his glass of wine thoughtfully instead of saying anything else. Unsure whether or not that was supposed to be taken as a cue the conversation was finished, Shirou didn’t say anything else either.

Eventually, he tapped his fingers on the tablet that was still on the table in front of him. “I’m going to do some work,” he said, although he really didn’t have much to do.

“Fine,” Mr. Kish said.

Shirou decided he may as well review the documents Medusa had given him the previous day again. He couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at Mr. Kish, who was just sipping his wine. Right now he had the feeling his boss was pointedly not looking at him, but he didn’t know how to interpret that anymore than he knew how to interpret it when he caught the man staring at him.

He finally got sleepy enough that even his self-consciousness over falling asleep in front of his boss couldn’t sustain him any longer. He closed his tablet cover and leaned back in his seat. He hadn’t ever gotten up to take his jacket off, but he felt like doing that now would draw too much attention to the fact that he was about to just go to sleep.

It was a little ridiculous that he couldn’t sleep at home due to thoughts about Mr. Kish, but right now, in a tiny space with the man himself, he drifted off almost immediately.


	4. Chapter 4

Shirou woke with a jolt. It took him far longer than it should have to remember where he was and what he was doing there, and when his disorientation finally passed he saw Mr. Kish was staring at him in what looked like surprise. He guessed his boss had been asleep as well and his own sudden movements had startled him awake. “Sorry,” he said.

“Did you have an unpleasant dream?” Mr. Kish asked.

Shirou ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, if anything. “I have no idea. What time is it?”

“We’ll be landing in thirty minutes,” his boss said, without looking at his watch or his phone.

Maybe he hadn't been asleep. Shirou didn't really want to consider the possibility that he'd been snoring away for hours while Mr. Kish was actually working, but the man didn't have anything on the table in front of him except his phone and his empty glass of wine. It was possible he'd been answering emails on the phone or something. Maybe reading an ebook? He couldn't really picture Mr. Kish playing cell phone games.

Shirou got up, stretched, and picked Mr. Kish’s wine glass up to secure it back in the bar. He considered finally taking his jacket off for the last bit of the flight but decided there wasn't really much of a point. It was already pretty wrinkled from sleeping in it. It was entirely possible this airplane had a steamer or an iron somewhere but if they were thirty minutes from landing he wouldn’t have enough time for that anyway. He just sat back down and put his seatbelt on.

“What are we doing for dinner?” Mr. Kish suddenly asked.

“Oh, I figured room service? It's going to be a little after eight on the ground when we land due to the time difference, so room service would be the least amount of hassle.” Shirou suddenly remembered he'd asked them to send the menu and he pulled it up in his tablet. “Here's the menu. I can call from the car so it'll be ready when we arrive.”

Mr. Kish eyed the tablet Shirou was holding out to him. “I’d prefer the restaurant,” he said.

Shirou nodded and put the tablet away. He supposed he should have expected that. Mr. Kish didn’t really seem like the kind of guy who would enjoy eating dinner in his hotel room if there was another option available. He had the feeling that dinner was going to be kind of awkward with just the two of them in a restaurant. He wished he had something more to talk about other than what they’d already gone over on the plane earlier, though, or that the PR person they were meeting was already there. 

The plane was beginning its descent now, and he didn’t seem able to get rid of the pressure in his ears. He also realized suddenly that he hadn’t talked to the driver he’d hired for the trip yet due to having been sound asleep for most of the flight. He wondered if Mr. Kish would be offended by a regular taxi, but at the same time the praise his boss had given him at the beginning of the flight made him worry about making a blunder now. He quickly looked up the number for the company and called them. He also called the hotel to make a reservation for them at the restaurant.

That done, he tried to relax through the landing. Mr. Kish didn’t say anything to him until they were on the ground and about to deplane. “You should fix your collar,” he said.

Shirou had been in the process of getting their luggage from where it had been stowed, and his hand immediately flew to his neck. The back of his collar was flipped up. He smoothed it down. “Thanks,” he said. He observed again that, despite the long plane ride, Mr. Kish looked barely ruffled. It must be a superpower only the rich and famous had.

The car was, thankfully, already waiting for them, the driver standing in the baggage claim area with a card. The card had Shirou’s name and not Mr. Kish’s, as holding a card with Mr. Kish’s name would have garnered a lot of attention. Not that Mr. Kish didn’t draw attention anyway. He apparently didn’t think it worth the effort to disguise himself when out in public. His golden hair drew the eye, and Shirou was sure people at this airport would have heard about the factory fire and put two and two together that this well-dressed, attractive man was in fact the tech industry mogul. People were certainly pulling their cell phones out and trying to snap surreptitious photos. Shirou ducked his head to try to avoid his own face getting plastered around the internet. The last time they’d come here it had been so late that this hadn’t been an issue. Every other traveler in the airport at that time had been bleary and tired enough not to care about Mr. Kish.

The trip to the hotel was blissfully short, at least. Mr. Kish seemed moody as they drove. He stood impatiently in the lobby as Shirou got them checked in and asked for a porter to take their bags up. Shirou would have welcomed the chance to go up to his room and at least steam out the worst wrinkles on his jacket but he was almost hungry enough not to care what he looked like so he didn't mention it. Mr. Kish headed directly for the hotel’s restaurant and Shirou followed.

He'd put the table in his boss’s name under the assumption that, if the place was at all crowded at this hour, the name would inspire the host to find them a table quickly anyway. Luckily it was not crowded, so they were seated immediately. Mr. Kish ordered wine after quickly scanning over the wine list, and to Shirou’s distress he also ordered a glass for Shirou.

Just having dinner alone with Mr. Kish was weird, but his boss ordering him a drink only made it weirder. Especially considering he had told Mr. Kish earlier that he didn’t do well with alcohol. He’d meant for that to be interpreted as him not being a drinker at all, but apparently Mr. Kish had not come to that conclusion. He felt like refusing the wine at this point would be rude, since the waiter had already walked off, so he just resigned himself to it. One glass wouldn’t kill him, and he could wait to start drinking it until their food arrived so it wouldn’t be on a completely empty stomach.

Or so he thought. As soon as the wine arrived, Mr. Kish held his glass up as if to toast, just like he’d done on the plane. “To this all being wrapped up quickly,” he said. He continued to hold the glass, expectant.

Shirou hurried to follow his lead. The wine was quite good, although Shirou typically preferred whites to reds. Mr. Kish watched him as he put it back down on the table and unwrapped his utensils. They had, mercifully, provided some bread, so after putting his napkin in his lap Shirou cut off a piece, dipped it in the provided olive oil, and took a bite. And then, because Mr. Kish was still watching him, and because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, he took another sip of his wine.

By the end of the dinner, he'd gone through four and a half glasses of wine, and he was already too drunk to regret it. He wondered how Mr. Kish, who was considerably more composed after having had the same amount, managed it. Maybe he was just drunk all the time. Was that the real secret of his legendary self-confidence?

His boss had a delighted expression. Shirou tried to remember why he looked so pleased. What had they even been talking about? He'd lost track completely at this point.

The waiter finally brought their bill and Mr. Kish tucked his credit card into the folder without really looking at it. Shirou wondered how eight glasses of wine would look on the expense report for this trip. The waiter appeared, took the card, and came back in short order as he finished his final glass.

Mr. Kish stood, so Shirou also got up. He was unsteady, so he moved slowly. That seemed to annoy his boss, who was definitely not drunk. Was that even possible? Five glasses of wine was practically an entire bottle, and they’d only been at the restaurant an hour. That should get anyone drunk. Mr. Kish didn't even seem tipsy.

He tried to pull himself together. He was reflecting badly on his boss right now, and even in the late hour there were still quite a few diners at the restaurant. At least it was a classy enough establishment that there weren't cell phone camera flashes going off around them.

He managed a stiff, wobbly walk from their table to the front of the restaurant. He stumbled a bit when another hotel guest came around a corner suddenly on their way to the elevator, but otherwise he was quite proud of not having fallen over. Once they were in the elevator, Mr. Kish looked expectantly at him and Shirou only stared blankly back. “The floor?” his boss asked, finger poised to press a button.

“Oh, the floor,” Shirou said. He couldn't remember which pocket he'd put the room keys in, but finally found them in his inside jacket pocket with his phone. “Thirty,” he said. He handed Mr. Kish a key. “We’re in 21 and 23,” he said, squinting at the handwritten numbers on the envelope the keys had been in.

Their rooms were close to the elevator. Shirou had told them to put all the bags in one room, so he tried opening the first door. His key didn't work. He tried it again, before Mr. Kish pulled him gently aside and used his own key. “You must have 23,” he said, as the door lock clicked and he opened the door.

“Are the bags in there?” Shirou asked, following his boss into the room. Mr. Kish stopped shortly inside the door and Shirou ran into him. He staggered backwards and caught himself on the closet door. “Sorry.”

“You got us adjoining rooms?” Mr. Kish asked, looking back at him.

“No?” Shirou said. He peered around his boss and saw that there was in fact an extra door on the side that would lead to Shirou’s room. He also saw that his bag and backpack were sitting with Mr. Kish’s in front of that door. And then he overbalanced and almost fell on the other man.

Mr. Kish turned completely and frowned at him. “You really are drunk,” he said.

“It’s your fault,” Shirou said. 

“I suppose.” Mr. Kish turned away again, picked up Shirou’s bag, and handed it to him. “Get room service on your own for breakfast.”

“Okay.” Shirou took the bag and lurched back out of the room. He had a little difficulty unlocking the door to the other room, but Mr. Kish did not follow him back out into the hallway and he managed it eventually. Once inside his room, he dropped his bag on the bed and then flopped face-first down next to it. He knew in the back of his mind that was a bad idea, because he was likely to fall asleep immediately, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

From his position he could see the door to Mr. Kish’s room out of the corner of his eye. He would just leave it shut.

* * *

Shirou’s alarm woke him at five the next morning. He used his phone’s alarm normally, and he hadn’t bothered to turn it off since he’d need to get up early anyway. The Uruk PR person wasn’t showing up until 9:00, but he’d originally thought he could go to the hotel’s gym first thing, and still have time for a shower and a nice breakfast.

That plan was ruined by the fact that he had fallen asleep face-down on the bed, still fully dressed. At some point in the night he must have kicked his shoes off, because they were on the floor, and it seemed like he had made some attempt to get his jacket off as well since he was pretty tangled up in that. He managed to extract himself enough to get his phone out and shut the alarm off, eyeing the low battery warning and being thankful he’d had it plugged in on the plane.

He needed to get up, obviously, and do something about himself. He had a raging headache, which was hardly surprising, and he had planned to wear this same jacket on Friday. At least he’d managed not to tear anything when he’d tried to take it off in his sleep. He rolled off the bed and looked for his backpack to get out his phone charger, and then realized Mr. Kish had only handed him his actual bag and his backpack, with all his chargers, his tablet, his bottle of water, and his book, was still in his boss’s room. He looked over at the adjoining door and scowled. It would be a problem if his phone died before he could get his backpack.

Why had he had so much wine? He’d been nervous about it as soon as Mr. Kish had ordered him his first glass, and his nerves had somehow sabotaged his good sense, and then the wine had sabotaged his good sense, and now he had no phone charger, a rumpled suit, and a massive headache.

And then he was struck by a dim memory that he’d spent much of the dinner complaining about his various ex-boyfriends. That made him need to sit down, and he went into the bathroom to sit on the closed toilet. Had he really? He tried to think back, but his memories of the previous night were fuzzy at best. He knew he’d told at least one story about the last guy he’d dated, who had been an actor. The phrase “I don’t know how you date so many actresses, they’re so moody” stuck out in his mind as something he was fairly certain he, a professional personal assistant, had said to his boss, one of the richest men in tech.

What was the professional thing to do in this situation? Shirou decided it was probably pretending like it had never happened. He splashed some water on his face, hung his jacket up so he could make an attempt to steam out the wrinkles later, and called the front desk to see if they had charge cables available. They offered to send one up, but as he desperately needed a shower, he decided to go down and get it.

He went down in the clothes he was still wearing, not seeing much of a point in changing and then immediately taking everything back off to shower. The woman at the front desk, who was far too chipper for Shirou’s hungover brain to stand, handed him the cable and then said, in a conspiratorial tone, “Do you really work for Gilgamesh?”

“What?” Shirou asked. He’d dealt with the hotel entirely under his own name, and although he’d used his corporate credit card, he hadn’t mentioned Mr. Kish to anyone. Obviously he’d been present in the lobby when Shirou checked in, and he had used his name for the restaurant, but it seemed odd that the news would have spread so quickly after that.

The woman only repeated her question. Should he even answer this? “Yeah,” he said, before his mouth could catch up with his brain.

“Wow! Do you think he would sign my phone?” she asked.

“Um, probably not,” Shirou said. Was that something people asked Mr. Kish normally?

The woman laughed. “I figured. It’s funny that someone working for Uruk would forget their phone cable.”

Her assumption of what had happened was less embarrassing than what had actually happened so he just laughed. “There’s always cables around in the office so I'm used to not needing one.”

“I guess so! Have a nice day!”

He took the cable and went back to his room. Once he had his phone plugged in he unpacked his bag. He liked to hang everything up when he got to a hotel, just leaving his underwear and workout clothes in the bag. Once everything was neat, he picked up his toiletry bag and went into the bathroom. He took a couple of Tylenol for his head before getting into the shower.

When he was finished his shower, he shaved, then put on his underpants and shirt before going to find the room service menu in the oversized folder of hotel information on the desk. He placed his order, then went back into the bathroom to take care of his hair.

His next task was to get the iron ready to steam the wrinkles out of his outfit for the day. This was something he would normally have done the previous night, and it took longer than he was expecting because he had to wipe something sticky off the iron first. When there was a knock on the door he was still just in his underwear and he scrambled to yank his pajama pants on before opening it.

There was no one there. It took a second, more insistent knock for him to realize it was coming from the inner door that connected his room to Mr. Kish’s. He had to move the ironing board out of the way before he could unlock the deadbolt and open the door.

Mr. Kish was in workout clothes, and his hair was damp. He was holding Shirou’s backpack. “You left this last night,” he said, and Shirou took it from him.

“I realized when I woke up,” Shirou said. He wondered how long his boss had been up for. Had he gone swimming? Shirou couldn’t remember if the hotel’s pool was heated or not.

“How are you?”

“Um, I'm fine,” Shirou said. He didn't want to admit to his headache. He'd embarrassed himself enough the previous night. He was fairly certain the flat expression on his boss’s face was a judgemental one.

“I want to meet PR at the factory site,” he said. “When do we need to leave for that?”

Shirou thought for a minute, quickly trying to recall how long it had taken to get from the hotel to the site. “If she can get there by 9, we should leave by 8:30.”

“Fine. I'll meet you in the lobby.”

Mr. Kish closed the door. Shirou closed his as well, although he didn't bother to lock it again.

There was another knock and this one was definitely on the main door. He went and opened it, accepting the tray with its covered dish from the hotel employee. He brought it and put it on the desk, then grabbed his wallet from where he'd put it next to the TV and rushed back with a tip.

He eyed his clothes for the day and decided they were good enough. He was hungry. He'd ordered a decent spread of French toast, hash browns, sausage, and eggs, along with a fruit salad. He put a pot of coffee on and got his bottle of water and tablet out of his bag before sitting down to eat.

He emailed the PR person first. They'd agreed to meet at 9, but originally the plan had been to meet in the lobby. She replied immediately that meeting at the factory site instead was fine. He then called the car to come and pick them up at 8:30 and ate his breakfast while browsing the news on his tablet.

* * *

The next two days were busy, and Shirou was honestly glad that he did not end up spending a lot of time alone with Mr. Kish. He kept telling himself to forget about Tuesday night, but he couldn’t actually get his mind off of it. Every time Mr. Kish had a glass of wine, which was frequently, his mind went back to fixating on the knowledge that Mr. Kish knew far more about his exes than someone who was his boss ought to. He refused any and all offers of alcohol at any meal.

Finally, it was Friday morning. They were checking out of the hotel and going back today. Shirou couldn’t wait to sleep in his own bed. The hotel was nice, but Shirou always found it a little difficult to sleep in an unfamiliar place. If the trip hadn’t been so exhausting, he probably wouldn’t have gotten any decent sleep at all.

They weren’t going to be able to fly out of the airport until closer to noon, but Shirou was up early because he hadn’t gotten a single workout in the whole time they’d been there. He knew himself well enough to know that he wasn’t going to go in the evening, back at home, so he got dressed in his workout clothes and headed downstairs to the gym.

The facilities were actually quite nice. There was a large, airy room on the second floor, with a wall of windows facing the rooftop pool. A few people were already on the treadmills and one on a stationary bike, but all of them had headphones in and weren’t paying much attention to him when he arrived. He picked a treadmill away from the in-use ones, looking out toward the pool, and started his warm-up.

When he was finishing his routine and doing a cool-down on the same treadmill, Mr. Kish appeared. He got on the treadmill next to Shirou’s, looking a little groggy. He’d apparently swam both the previous mornings, and Shirou wasn’t sure how he had the energy to have worked out every day they’d been there.

He stopped his treadmill just before Shirou did. “Just warming up,” he said, before crossing the room to pick up a hotel towel from where they were sitting on a rack next to the door out to the pool and going out.

Shirou watched him stretch for a moment and wished he’d taken off his shirt before starting. He was about to go back up to his room for a shower when he realized Mr. Kish had left his phone on the treadmill. He picked it up and went outside to give it to him.

Mr. Kish looked at him when he came out. “You left your phone,” Shirou said.

“Oh. I thought you might be coming for a swim.”

“I’m not dressed for that,” Shirou said. “And it’s a little chilly.”

Mr. Kish shrugged. “The pool’s heated,” he said.

Shirou put his phone on the lounge chair where Mr. Kish had left his towel. “I still don’t have any swim trunks,” he said. “Have a pleasant swim.”

He turned to go back inside. Thinking about the pool had made him realize he had time for a bath instead of just a shower. He didn’t indulge in that very often because he always felt the need to clean the tub afterwards, but he was in a hotel and cleaning the tub here wasn’t his problem.

His mind on that, he wasn’t paying much attention as something swooped down towards his head. He saw it at the last minute and tried to duck sideways to avoid it, but the concrete around the pool was wet. He slipped. There was nothing to catch himself on, and the pool was too close for him to avoid falling in.

He hit his head on the metal pool ladder as he went down. The impact knocked him out instantly.

* * *

When he woke up, he was on one of the lounge chairs next to the pool. He had a blanket on him and someone was touching his head. It hurt, and his throat was sore. He was also soaking wet beneath the blanket and, honestly, the blanket wasn’t doing much of anything to keep him warm since the lounge chair beneath him was open latticework.

The person who was touching his head was a paramedic. “Uh,” Shirou said.

The paramedic jumped a little. “Oh my god, I did not realize you were awake,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“My head hurts,” Shirou said.

“Hardly surprising,” the man said. “You hit it pretty hard, from the sound of it. On the bright side, you don't seem to have cracked your skull. I don't think you're in any immediate danger but you should go to the hospital to get checked out.”

Shirou abruptly remembered what had happened. He’d fallen into the pool, which was why he was soaked, and he’d hit his head on the ladder on the way. He reached his own fingers to gingerly touch the spot on his head. There was definitely a bump there.

“Did you know Gilgamesh Kish saved your life?” the paramedic asked.

“What?”

“He pulled you out of the pool and got the water out of your airways.”

Shirou looked around, and he saw Mr. Kish was sitting on another lounge chair a few feet away with two other paramedics crouched beside him and a policeman standing up with a notebook. It looked like the paramedics were trying to do something with his hand, but it took Shirou a moment to notice he also had a towel across his lap that was stained with blood. Mr. Kish was talking quietly to the policeman. “What happened?” he asked, focusing back on the paramedic in front of him, who had followed his gaze.

“Well… I don’t know the full details, but from what he said a drone swooped through the pool area, which is what made you fall, and after he got you out it was still buzzing around so he hit it.”

“He hit it?”

The paramedic laughed a little. “He punched it right out of the air. But it cut his hand up.”

That was going to be an interesting headline tomorrow. “Gilgamesh Kish punches drone.” Shirou glanced back over his shoulder at the glass wall of the gym and saw that there were a number of onlookers. It was unreasonable to assume no one had managed to get a cell phone photo of the incident. Probably a video.

It was also probably unreasonable at this point to assume they were going to get on the plane in time. Shirou’s phone was, unfortunately, back up in his hotel room. Without his contacts, he couldn’t call the driver or the pilot to reschedule. He really didn’t want to end this week in a hospital in New Mexico, but it looked inevitable at this point.

The policeman appeared to be done with Mr. Kish and was heading toward Shirou. The paramedic stood up. “There’s not much else I can do for you,” he said. “But I still recommend going to the hospital to get checked out. Brain injuries aren’t something you want to mess with.”

“Thanks,” Shirou said. “Is this your blanket?”

“No, it’s the hotel’s.” He walked away, and Shirou looked up at the policeman, who was dragging another lounge chair closer to sit down on it.

“Hi,” the man said. “I’m Officer Daniel Brown.” He offered a hand to shake, and Shirou accepted. The man had a very uncomfortable handshake. “Can I get your name?”

“Shirou Emiya,” Shirou said, then spelled it out. He wondered if Gilgamesh ever had to spell his name, or if he was famous enough not to bother.

“Your boss,” the officer said, gesturing back over his shoulder at Mr. Kish, “is filing a police report. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t really know,” Shirou admitted. “I was in the gym, and when he came out here to swim I noticed he’d left his phone on a treadmill. After I brought it out, something swooped near my head and I fell into the pool trying to avoid it. I never saw what it was. I thought it was a bird.”

“What about your injuries?”

“I guess just a bump on my head. They want me to go to the hospital.” He wasn’t sure why he’d added that, but maybe it was important. He wanted to talk to Mr. Kish, and also to change out of his wet clothes.

The officer pressed him for any more details, but since Shirou honestly hadn’t seen the drone as a drone, only something dark and blurry, he didn’t have much to say. Eventually he left Shirou alone and went back over to talk briefly to Mr. Kish again.

Mr. Kish looked surly. “It has a fucking camera on it!” he shouted at the policeman. “It probably belongs to a paparazzi! Who the fuck else would be buzzing a drone around a hotel pool at six in the morning?”

Finally, the policeman left him alone as well, and then the paramedics got up. He stood when they did, as if to see them off, but as soon as they were walking away he made a straight line to Shirou. He sat down on the lounge chair the policeman had been sitting on. He was clearly angry, his hand wrapped up in bandages. He’d left the bloody towel over on the other chair, but Shirou could now see he also had blood down the front of the dark gray t-shirt he was wearing. It had been hard to see from a distance since Mr. Kish was also soaking wet. “Are you alright?” he asked Shirou. He sounded angry even with that question.

“I’m fine,” Shirou said. “Thanks for saving my life?”

That softened Mr. Kish a little bit. “I wasn’t going to let you drown,” he said. “Be more careful next time. Don’t walk so close to the pool.”

“Was it really a drone?” Shirou asked, even though he knew that would bring the anger back.

It did. Mr. Kish practically growled before saying, “Yes, a drone. It must belong to some cocksucking paparazzi who wanted some topless pool photos. It’s in the police’s hands now, and I hope the financial loss ruins him.”

“Did you really punch it?”

Mr. Kish held up his bandaged hand. “I should have done it with my left hand,” he said.

Shirou laughed. Before he could say anything else, a voice broke in. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

The hotel manager was standing to Shirou’s right. “There will be no charge if you need to extend your stay, obviously. And we will cover any hospital fees. I brought you some robes.”

Shirou wondered if the hotel manager himself would have been bringing them robes if it hadn’t been Mr. Kish involved with the situation. He took the offered robe, though, and stood up to put it on. He was expecting to be dizzy when he stood but he wasn’t, which he felt was a good sign.

“You’re lucky I like this hotel,” Mr. Kish said. “We’ll be staying an extra night. And I want room service dinner, and lunch. And a ride to the hospital.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll take you personally.”

“Good. We’re going to change into dry clothes first.”

Shirou stood very quietly through the whole exchange. Mr. Kish’s anger was justified, as far as he was concerned, but it seemed kind of unfair to take it out completely on the hotel manager. After all, the paparazzo himself might not have even been on the hotel’s property. But his head hurt far too badly for him to protest. He’d spent more than enough of this trip with a headache.

“Of course. I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” the manager said. He personally escorted them into the hotel, although Mr. Kish’s sour expression was probably enough to keep anyone from making an attempt to approach them on the way to the elevator.

* * *

Three hours later, Shirou was sitting in the hospital’s waiting room with the hotel manager. Shirou had actually been surprised at the brevity of the visit, but he suspected Mr. Kish’s celebrity status probably had something to do with it. He’d had a CT scan and some simple tests to make sure his vision and coordination were fine, and then been given a clean bill of health. They'd given him some painkillers and sent him on his way. Mr. Kish needed a few stitches on the back of his hand, but nothing more extensive than that, although it was somehow taking much longer than Shirou’s tests had.

The manager didn’t seem very interested in any idle conversation. He was busily typing away on his phone. Shirou wished he’d brought his tablet or his book as he scrolled through the news on his own phone.

And then he stopped scrolling. He’d expected a headline about Mr. Kish punching a drone, but that was apparently not what the media was interested in. Instead, across several news sites, there was a blurry cell-phone photo of Mr. Kish giving him mouth to mouth on the side of the pool. Shirou stared at the photo, then looked around the waiting room slightly panicked that someone would recognize him as the person in the photo. The media already knew he was Mr. Kish’s personal assistant, but no one had thought it worthwhile to ferret out his name, so he was at least anonymous in that respect, but this was the last thing he wanted. No one in the waiting room seemed to notice him or care, though.

He returned his attention to his phone, and at that moment a text came through from Rin. “Are you okay?” it said, simply.

She must have seen the photo. Hastily he actually read through a few of the short, unverified stories on the websites with the photo, so he would at least know what kind of misinformation he was dealing with before he had to confirm or deny anything. Only a single one even mentioned Mr. Kish punching the drone. He did  _ not _ read the comments. He was sure he didn't want to know anything about anyone's opinion about the photo. “I'm fine,” he texted back. “I’m at the hospital but they've already discharged me. Please don't tell me about your fans’ reaction. I do not want to know.”

She replied with a frown emoji, then texted, “Did he really rescue you from drowning in a swimming pool?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“I don't think Artoria’s heard yet but you should text her. Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

Rin was right. He should text Artoria before she got worried about it. He opened his message thread with her and typed, “Almost drowned in a pool this morning. I'm fine. Won't be home until tomorrow.”

She didn't reply right away, so she was probably recording.

Mr. Kish finally came out into the waiting room. He looked as irritable as ever. His hand was bandaged, but not as heavily as it had been by the paramedics. The bleeding must have stopped.

The hotel manager jumped to his feet immediately, and Shirou followed.

* * *

Shirou spent the entire ride back to the hotel wondering whether he should tell Mr. Kish what the press was apparently focused on or let him find out on his own. He was still obviously irritated, which made Shirou really not want to bring it up. In particular he didn't want to bring it up with the hotel manager driving. They were both in the backseat but it wasn't a private car where the driver couldn't listen to anything they were saying.

Finally, he decided to bring it up, but he waited until they were in the elevator and headed back up to their rooms. “Um,” he said.

Mr. Kish glared at him, although his gaze immediately softened. “What?”

“Well, I was looking at the news while in the waiting room…”

“Is it out already? I guess one of those idiot bystanders must have sold their cell photos to the media,” Mr. Kish said. “They move fast when they smell a scandal.”

“Yeah,” Shirou said. “On the bright side they're more focused on you saving my life than anything else…”

The elevator reached their floor, interrupting their conversation. Shirou went silent as they walked to their rooms. When they got there, Mr. Kish opened his door and paused while Shirou was digging his key out of his pocket. “Come in here,” Mr. Kish said.

Shirou dropped his key on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, then followed Mr. Kish into his room. “Do you need anything?” he asked.

The door hadn't even shut behind Shirou when Mr. Kish whirled on him. Shirou took a step back before the door stopped him, and Mr. Kish put his hand on the door beside Shirou’s head and leaned in close. “I'm sorry,” he said.

He was far, far too close. He didn't smell like he had before. The scent of chlorine still lingered on both of them, although there was also the faintest lingering hint of blood on Mr. Kish. “Sorry?” Shirou echoed, dumbly.

“That you were hurt because of a fucking paparazzi,” Mr. Kish clarified.

“Oh,” Shirou said, even more dumbly. “Thanks for saving my life, though.”

Somehow, Mr. Kish got even closer. Shirou had to resist the urge to put his hands up against his boss’s chest to push him away. He was uncomfortable, but that was mostly because he felt like if this went on any longer he was going to pop a boner.

He probably was going to, anyway, but he'd rather be able to make a quick exit when he did. One of his hands slid across the door towards its handle.

“I don't want to lose you,” Mr. Kish said. His voice was low and quiet and Shirou was definitely not going to get out of this without a hard-on.

He didn't know how to respond, or how to extricate himself from the situation. He flinched a little as Mr. Kish’s other hand touched his hip. Was… was Mr. Kish honestly coming on to him right now? What should he do?

Obviously he'd been attracted to his boss since day one. But Mr. Kish, so far as his very public love life indicated, was straight. And he also wasn't the type to make a pass at an employee. But here he was, his face inches away from Shirou’s and his hand lightly resting against his hip.

“Um,” he finally said. That seemed to bring Mr. Kish to his senses because he backed off immediately. He became instantly businesslike, walking away from Shirou into the room. He kicked off the sneakers he was wearing before dropping heavily into the desk chair.

“Let’s have lunch in here and we can go over the data from Wednesday,” he said, as if Shirou wasn't still frozen in place by the door. “May as well get something out of being here another day.”

Shirou tried to relax. “Yeah, sure. Let me go get my tablet and the chair from my desk.” He opened the inner door that led to his room, remembering he'd never bothered to lock it again on his side after Wednesday morning.

He came back with the tablet and the chair and called both their orders in from Mr. Kish’s phone before pulling up his notes from the previous two days. He was trying not to look directly at Mr. Kish. His heart was still racing a little, and every time he did glance up, his boss was staring at him.

Their food came. Shirou answered the door, then stood aside to let the staff member bring both meals in. He watched from the doorway as Mr. Kish handed the man a tip, then closed the door again behind him when he left. He went back to the desk, where Mr. Kish had already uncovered his meal, a roast beef sandwich with French fries and a side salad. Shirou had been surprised at Mr. Kish’s proclivity towards sandwiches at first, but he was used to it now.

His own meal was some kind of Mexican-inspired salad, with ground beef and cheese. It was better than he'd been expecting, but he was having a difficult time eating it because Mr. Kish continued to stare at him. His intense focus only went away when he was taking a bite out of the sandwich.

Lunch was starting to feel tense. Finally, Shirou, desperate to break the silence hanging in the air, asked, “Do you swim every morning?”

“When I can,” Mr. Kish said.

Shirou gave him time to elaborate, but he didn't. “I wish I could, but the gym I go to doesn’t actually have a pool,” he finally said instead.

“I have my own pool,” Mr. Kish said.

It didn't sound like it was meant to be a brag, just a fact, but Shirou couldn't help but frown a little.

The meal lapsed back into awkward silence and staring. When Mr. Kish finished his food, he leaned back in his chair and regarded Shirou even more blatantly. Shirou was almost done, so he kept eating, but the staring was wearing him down.

Finally, he couldn't stand it. He was loathe to snap at the man who was both his boss and had saved his life that morning, so he tried to ask as softly as he could. “Are you staring at me?”

The question was more of a challenge than a request for an explanation. Shirou wanted to know why his boss was staring, but more than that he wanted him to stop doing it. Mr. Kish looked taken aback, though. “Was I?” he asked.

This time Shirou stared at him. He couldn't possibly be unaware of it. He'd been doing it very deliberately, throughout this entire trip. Shirou had caught Mr. Kish watching him more times than he'd bothered to count. “You were,” he said, a little more flatly than he intended.

“I almost lost you today,” Mr. Kish said. He sounded hesitant, like he wasn't actually sure that was what he wanted to say. He was looking directly into Shirou’s eyes when he said it, though, and Shirou felt a blush creeping up his face.

Shirou didn't respond. Mr. Kish had made a similar comment earlier, but it was an odd thing to say about an employee, even if that employee had almost drowned in a pool. He wondered if he should try to change the subject. He wasn't sure how he felt about Mr. Kish claiming some kind of ownership over him.

“Shirou,” he said, suddenly. Shirou’s gaze had slid away slightly but he met Mr. Kish’s eyes again. “I am extremely attracted to you.”

It took a moment for that to really sink in. Shirou didn't react at first, because he thought he must have misheard, but he also didn't know if he really wanted him to repeat himself.

He repeated himself on his own, before Shirou could say anything. “I've never been so attracted to an employee before,” he said. “All I can think about is how you could have died in the most ridiculous accident today.”

“I…” Shirou started, but he really didn't know what to say. He was certainly attracted to Mr. Kish, but the man was his boss. His boss and the richest, most popular man in the tech industry. A man who had dated movie stars and supermodels. It was hard not to wonder if this was some kind of elaborate setup. Or if he had in fact died when he'd hit his head and the afterlife was some kind of wish-fulfillment simulator. He was pretty sure his head hurt too much for the latter to be true.

Mr. Kish got up from his chair. Shirou knew he probably had a deer-in-headlights expression at this point, as his incredibly hot boss who had just confessed to being attracted to him came around to his side of the table. At that moment he realized he was still holding his fork, and tried to put it down without looking. It fell off the table and onto the floor. He really wanted to pick it up, but Mr. Kish was leaning over him, his hands on either armrest. He was effectively trapped.

“You're my boss,” he said, dumbly. Mr. Kish’s face was once again far too close to his.

“I am,” Mr. Kish acknowledged.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“I do.”

Shirou didn't know where that question had come from. It had just slipped out, and he couldn't take it back now. And Mr. Kish’s lips were so, so close to his. His lips parted almost involuntarily, and he leaned forward very slightly.

Mr. Kish took that for the invitation it was, and Shirou’s eyes slid closed as their lips met. He'd fantasized that his boss would be a great kisser, and he certainly was, although he escalated it almost immediately by pushing his tongue past Shirou’s unguarded lips.

It lasted for an eternity, it seemed like, and Mr. Kish’s body pressed in closer. His injured hand was still safely on the chair’s armrest, but his other was cupping the back of Shirou’s head, guiding him gently into a better angle.

When they broke apart, Shirou was panting. Mr. Kish said, “Shirou. I want you.”

In the back of Shirou’s mind he knew this was a terrible idea, but he didn’t think he really cared anymore. He could find a new job if he had to. He wasn’t some kind of saint who could resist this kind of temptation. He slid his arms around Mr. Kish’s neck and breathed out, softly, “Yes.”

Shirou hadn’t bothered to put a jacket on before they’d gone to the hospital, just his shirt and slacks, and Mr. Kish had actually only changed into a different set of workout clothes, probably to avoid getting blood on any of his shirts. The injury on his hand didn’t even slow him down as he unbuttoned Shirou’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. Unfortunately, Shirou’s almost religious devotion to wearing undershirts was a more difficult obstacle to get through with Shirou sitting and him standing.

Shirou allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, extracting his arms from his shirt as he moved and tugging his own undershirt off as soon as he was standing. Mr. Kish slid his unbandaged hand appreciatively down his chest, stopping once again on his hip, then kissed Shirou again.

They were right next to the bed. Mr. Kish grabbed Shirou’s upper arm and spun them both so the younger man’s back was to the bed. He didn't have to give much of a push for Shirou to fall onto it. He practically tore his own t-shirt off before leaning back down over Shirou and resuming their kiss.

It had been a couple of months since Shirou’s last breakup, and he hadn't so much as fooled around with anyone since then. He'd missed the feeling of skin touching skin, and sighed contentedly at the feeling of Mr. Kish’s chest pressing against his own.

He felt Mr. Kish’s hands on his waistband, and his boss muttered a curse against Shirou’s mouth as he realized Shirou’s belt was stopping him from getting his hands inside his pants. He shifted his body away slightly so he could reach Shirou’s belt. His attempts to undo it were clumsy, and Shirou made a sound of protest as he pulled further away when he couldn't get it undone.

“Dresses make for easier access,” Mr. Kish said. He yanked his own pants off while he was disengaged, although he left his underwear, a pair of high-end black briefs, on. The color made it hard to discern how hard he was beneath them.

“I'm not going to start wearing a dress,” Shirou said.

Mr. Kish ran his hands down Shirou’s inner thighs, eliciting a sigh from the younger man. “You wear a suit so well, I wouldn't want you to anyway,” he said, before unzipping Shirou’s trousers. He got them most of the way down Shirou’s legs before he realized that Shirou was still wearing shoes. He pulled those off a little roughly, dropping them to the floor, and yanked the trousers off the rest of the way. Then he stood up and regarded his personal assistant.

Shirou was lying sideways across the bed, his legs dangling off of it. He knew he was flushed and he was still panting slightly, and he also could feel the cool air on the already damp spot he'd made on the front of his boxer briefs. He probably looked more than a little lascivious.

He stared at Mr. Kish as Mr. Kish stared at him. His boss’s skin had a dusky, golden hue to it, although it was hard to appreciate it because he was backlit by the window behind him. Shirou, whose chest had always been mostly hairless, noticed with some appreciation the light dusting of golden curls across Mr. Kish’s chest, and the darker curls peeking out from the top of the waistband of his underwear.

There would be time for mutual admiration later, though. Shirou scooted himself further onto the bed, twisting so he was more diagonal to avoid getting too close to the other edge. Mr. Kish took the hint and climbed after him, although he sat and tugged Shirou’s hips forward towards his own before leaning down to guide Shirou, by tugging one arm, into a sitting position. Shirou’s legs were splayed across Mr. Kish’s, and Mr. Kish kissed him again, more hungrily than before. He let go of Shirou’s wrist where he'd grabbed it and curled his bandaged hand around the younger man’s bicep instead, keeping him from really moving. His grip was tight, but Shirou didn't particularly mind, except that he was vaguely worried about the other man’s injury.

His boss’s left hand found its way into the front of Shirou’s underwear, and Shirou pulled away from their kiss to gasp at the contact of his surprisingly rough skin against his firm erection. He didn't do anything but apply a light pressure, so Shirou shifted his hips forward, seeking more. He slid his own hand down Mr. Kish’s stomach, enjoying how the tight muscles there jumped at his touch, but before he could get it inside his boss’s briefs, the other man abruptly pushed him back against the bed. “How far do you want to go?” Mr. Kish whispered against his ear.

Shirou felt like he could come just from that voice so close to him. It took a second for him to compose himself enough to reply, “Do you have condoms?”

“Condoms and lube,” Mr. Kish said.

Had he planned this? The thought surfaced in Shirou’s mind before getting instantly wiped away by a thumb rubbing against one of his nipples and Mr. Kish’s tongue along the outside of his ear. He reached downward again and managed to cup his hand around the front of Mr. Kish’s underwear, which earned him a grunt and a squeeze to his own cock. “I want you to fuck me,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

Mr. Kish’s breath was still warm against his ear. Like Shirou could be sure of his own intentions in this situation. Now that he could feel his boss’s hardness he wanted it inside him, preferably soon. “Yeah,” he said, his voice practically a sigh.

The other man withdrew, sitting up again and then climbing off the bed. Shirou wanted to complain, but he also wanted to get fucked, so he didn’t say anything. He did, however, take the opportunity to wriggle free of his underwear. He couldn’t resist the urge to wrap a hand around himself, lazily slicking precome down his length.

Mr. Kish came back. He’d gone into the bathroom, Shirou assumed, or into the closet, but he was holding a couple of packets of lube and a couple of condoms. He tossed them onto the bed next to Shirou, and Shirou watched him as he took his own underwear off. He did it slowly, letting the younger man have a little bit of a show, which Shirou didn’t mind at all.

His dreams had been somewhat inaccurate about Mr. Kish’s penis size. His subconscious had imagined it to be longer, for one, and he was also a little surprised to see that his boss was circumcised. Not that he was complaining. It was hard to be disappointed by the real life accessibility of an attractive man’s dick, even if it didn’t quite live up to his dreams.

He spread his legs invitingly as Mr. Kish climbed back onto the bed. He hadn’t taken his hand off his own cock, and Mr. Kish wrapped his bandaged right hand over the top of it. “Should you be doing this with that hand?” Shirou asked.

“They gave me extra bandages. I’ll change it later,” he answered carelessly.

Again, that was something Shirou wanted to protest, but he didn’t. He could help with the changing later.

Mr. Kish had to let go of him to pick up a packet of lube and tear it open. He squeezed some out onto his left hand and dropped it back on the bed. “Get on your knees,” he said to Shirou. “Face me.”

Shirou obliged. He sat up, then shifted onto his knees. He didn’t really think this was the sexiest position to be in, but Mr. Kish put his clean hand on his hips and pulled him forward, until Shirou was straddling his boss’s legs, sitting back slightly on Mr. Kish’s thighs.

From that vantage, Mr. Kish had easy access to his mouth, and he kissed him as he slid his lube-coated fingers down the cleft of his ass. He pushed a finger inside Shirou slowly, his mouth working against Shirou’s the entire time. He wasted no time in curling that finger to push against Shirou’s prostate, though, which made Shirou interrupt the kiss to arch back and moan.

Mr. Kish smiled up at him, looking incredibly pleased by his reaction. Shirou’s ass had always been very sensitive. He wanted more than a single finger in it as soon as possible, but he couldn’t find words to articulate it. “More,” he said, simply, as he pressed his body up against Mr. Kish’s.

His boss didn’t immediately oblige him. Instead, he licked along Shirou’s collarbone and used his bandaged hand to squeeze his butt, pulling one cheek aside for easier access to his asshole. He slid his single finger in and out for what could have been hours, for all Shirou was concerned, before finally, with painstaking slowness, pushing another finger in.

He worked slowly up to three, while Shirou rapidly became nothing but a horny, moaning mess in his lap. Finally, he took all his fingers out, and Shirou did complain at this with a long whining noise, and braced a hand against the small of Shirou’s back so he could lean forward to grab a condom without Shirou having to move.

Shirou had tried multiple times to wrap his hand around both of their cocks, but every time he did it, Mr. Kish nipped at his throat and told him to stop. He’d been just about to the point where he wasn’t going to listen anymore, but now Mr. Kish was rolling a condom on and Shirou was going to get what he’d really wanted this whole time. Eager, Shirou rose up higher on his knees and canted his hips forward as Mr. Kish lined himself up with Shirou’s hole. From his position on top, he had control over how quickly he took his boss’s cock, and he took full advantage of it by sinking down quickly. The sudden extra stretch was just on the right side of painful.

He just sat there, impaled on Gilgamesh Kish’s cock, until Mr. Kish tipped him backwards to fall against the bed again. Then he began pounding into the younger man with earnest. Apparently his control had limits, and Shirou was delighted to have surpassed them. He wanted to wrap a hand around his own cock again but all he could manage to do was cling to Mr. Kish as he was pushed repeatedly into the mattress.

Eventually Mr. Kish seemed to realize his plight, and he wrapped his left hand around Shirou and jerked him in time with his thrusts, which were starting to get sloppy. Shirou came right before he did, and after they were both sated his boss lay heavily on top of him.

They stayed like that for a few long minutes before Mr. Kish finally pushed himself up onto his elbows and kissed Shirou before sitting up completely and pulling out so he could take the condom off. He tied it and then got off the bed completely to take it into the bathroom. Shirou heard the sound of the sink, and then he came back a moment later with a warm, damp washcloth, which he handed to Shirou to wipe the come that was spattered across his stomach and chest off.

Shirou really didn’t want to get up, but he supposed he needed to. Eventually the consequences of having just had sex with his boss were going to hit him, but for now he was basking in the afterglow. Mr. Kish got back on the bed and lay beside him. “That was good,” he said, after they both lay staring at the ceiling for a while.

“Yes,” Shirou said. He wondered if he should say something else, but his mind was mostly blank, until the thought of Mr. Kish’s hand popped into it. “How’s your hand?”

Mr. Kish held up his bandaged hand. It only looked slightly soiled. “How’s your head?” Mr. Kish asked.

“Still attached,” Shirou said. It actually was starting to hurt again, now that the drugs they’d given him in the hospital were wearing off. He needed to take one of the pain pills, but he was too drowsy to do that. He let his eyes shut.

“Are you going to sleep here?” Mr. Kish asked.

He really shouldn’t. He hadn’t taken a shower yet, and after having worked up a sweat, fallen in a pool and then worked up another sweat just now he really needed one. He grudgingly sat up. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said.

“Go ahead,” Mr. Kish replied. He seemed disinclined to get back up himself.

“I’ll leave the adjoining door open,” Shirou said, although as soon as the words left his mouth he wondered if Mr. Kish was going to take that as an invitation. Showering together might be nice, but he didn’t think he could go another round just then.

“Fine,” was all he got in reply, though, so he went back to his room. He got out some underwear, thankful he’d packed a few extra pairs. That had been in anticipation of the gym rather than in anticipation of sex, but it was useful either way.

He closed the door to the bathroom all the way, but then took an extra long shower, with the result being the bathroom turning into a sauna. He hated the way the steam caused condensation on his skin, so he just shoved his underwear on as soon as he was decently toweled off, wrapped an extra towel around his head to keep his hair from dripping, and left the bathroom. He peeked in through the open inner doors but it sounded like Mr. Kish had also gotten up to take a shower and was still in there, so he went in to pick up his discarded clothes from where they were strewn across the floor and chair and grab his phone and tablet from the desk. He also picked up Mr. Kish’s t-shirt and sweatpants, folding them neatly and leaving them on the bed. He hesitated just a little at picking up the black briefs, but then he added those to the pile as well.

He hung his pants up back in his room. He could wear the same pair later. He’d brought extra underwear but he hadn’t brought extra anything else, even though he’d known there was the possibility of the trip getting extended. He’d been fairly confident in Mr. Kish’s ability to wrap things up quickly, especially motivated by the guests he was expecting tomorrow. It was natural that he hadn’t expected to have to go to the hospital.

Instead of dressing right away, he took his phone and flopped down onto the bed with it. As soon as he unlocked it he saw there were five missed messages, all from Artoria. “You what?” the first one said, in reply to the text he’d sent her from the hospital hours ago. “Oh my god I saw the news,” was the second. The third, fourth, and fifth all basically said, “Text me when you have the chance, okay?”

He texted her. “Hi.”

Her reply was almost instantaneous. “You said you were alright, but are you really alright?”

“I’m fine. I fell into the pool and hit my head on the ladder. I’ve got a bump but they did a CT scan and everything checks out.”

“You’ll have to give me the whole story tomorrow,” she replied.

“The whole story” probably involved mentioning the sex he’d just had. Not in any graphic detail, of course, just the new development in what he’d thought had been a hopeless, one-sided crush on his boss. But he didn’t really want to tell her about that via text message. “I will,” he typed back instead.

She didn’t reply right away, so he dropped the phone on the bed beside him and stared up at the ceiling. What he really didn’t want to think about right now, and what he should have thought long before Mr. Kish’s hand was inside his underwear, was where they were supposed to go from here. He supposed that it would probably work better as a discussion than him worrying about it himself. Mr. Kish didn’t seem to be the type who would worry about it, though.

There was always the chance it was a one-time thing and would never happen again.

* * *

That final thought, before he’d ended up falling asleep until Mr. Kish woke him up wanting to go to the restaurant for dinner, had stayed with him all through the meal, during which they’d talked about nothing but work, the evening after the meal, during which Mr. Kish had gone downstairs to the gym to have a non-swimming workout, and the night, which they’d both spent in their own beds, in their own rooms. It in fact stayed with him until the next morning, when they finally checked out of the hotel and headed to the airport to go home.

He’d helped Mr. Kish re-bandage his hand that morning, but that had been the most intimate contact they’d had. Beyond that, his boss was acting much the same as he’d been before they’d had sex. He was quiet all morning. Shirou had managed to get their flight scheduled for departure at nine AM, although with the time difference they wouldn’t be getting back into New York until after three. Mr. Kish’s visiting friends were coming at six o’clock, which was cutting it a little close on time, but his boss seemed determined not to change their plans. It made sense if they’d come from Japan for the deal, but Shirou had flown between Japan and America four times and he couldn’t imagine anyone making that trip solely for one evening, nor could he imagine why someone who was doing that would also drag their non-English speaking wife along. Shirou was just going to go straight to Mr. Kish’s house with him instead of going home to his apartment first to make things a little easier.

He’d sent a text to Artoria telling her he would still be home that day, but probably not until late, so she was still on her own for dinner, to which she had replied,  _ Like I’m going to make you cook me dinner after your traumatic brain injury! _

The most Mr. Kish had said that morning was after having finally seen the photo most of the media outlets were using for the story about what had happened. The fact that a drone most likely controlled by a paparazzi had caused the incident had sparked a discussion across various news sites and Twitter about the privacy and how ethical it was to bypass laws regarding private property by using something like a drone, but despite that no one seemed to have a problem plastering that photo of Mr. Kish’s mouth on Shirou’s everywhere. Mr. Kish was livid over it, and Shirou had managed to convince him to actually wear a hat and a pair of fake glasses, acquired at the hotel’s gift shop, at the airport so they didn’t attract the attention of some amature paparazzo while they were walking through to their plane. He’d actually gone the extra step to wear a lightweight, dark purple windbreaker, also from the gift shop, instead of his usual suit jacket. Shirou had also bought a hat for himself. It was actually pretty hard to recognize him from the photo, but the comparative rarity of an Asian man with hair the particular color of his made him a little easier to spot, he thought.

Either their disguises worked or no one in the airport particularly cared, because they got through and boarded the jet with no problems. Once on the jet, however, Shirou became very, very aware of two things: his boss’s small, private smile as he watched Shirou squirm, and the actual bedroom behind the door at the back of the plane. The idea of it having been a one-time thing went right out of his brain at that point.

He was peripherally that the pilot would probably be able to figure out what had happened, if something did happen, and someone had to clean this plane, right? Someone must change the sheets on the bed.

Mr. Kish’s smile turned increasingly predatory as they took off.

When the pilot finally told them it was safe to move around the cabin, Mr. Kish was up and out of his seat before Shirou could even unfasten his seatbelt. He skirted around the table to place one knee very pointedly on the edge of the seat between Shirou’s legs and lean down for a kiss.

Shirou gave up trying to undo his seatbelt and instead put his arms around Mr. Kish’s neck, enjoying the way the other man sucked on his tongue. When his boss’s knee pressed more firmly into his crotch, he couldn't say if that was due to his own shifting or Mr. Kish’s, but he wasn't going to protest either way.

Finally, Mr. Kish unbuckled his seatbelt for him and tried to pull him up and onto his feet. He was unsuccessful because the table was too close, and ended up awkwardly sitting down on the edge of it while Shirou hovered in a half-standing position.

Shirou sat back down so Mr. Kish could extricate himself from the table, then, swallowing hard at the look on his boss’s face, followed him.

Mr. Kish did lead him back to the bedroom. He didn't leave Shirou a lot of time to worry about the idea of the pilot figuring out Gilgamesh Kish was banging his male personal assistant. Instead, as soon as they were inside, he pushed Shirou back against the narrow door and kissed him even more hungrily than before. His mouth traveled away from Shirou’s to his throat, where Mr. Kish’s long fingers were tugging his tie down and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his collar.

Shirou decided he really didn't care about the pilot and slid his hands beneath Mr. Kish’s windbreaker, tugging his soft cotton shirt out of his waistband so he could touch bare skin, and curling his hands around the taut muscle there. His boss didn't have much in the way of body fat, and would probably have been quite scrawny unclothed if it wasn't for the well-developed muscle that showed clearly beneath his skin.

Shirou, for his part, was almost as muscular but he had a little more padding from a life of eating well and not spending as much time at the gym as he probably needed to counteract his eating well. His boss didn't seem to care about that, though, as he shoved Shirou’s jacket off his shoulders and then pulled him away from the door by his collar.

The bedroom on the plane was small, and the space from the door to the bed was barely wide enough for the door to swing open, so it only took two short strides for Mr. Kish to shove Shirou onto the bed. Shirou, feeling slightly overwhelmed all of a sudden, even though this was the second time they were having sex, lay there with a stunned expression as Mr. Kish stripped off his clothes in front of him.

His boss made no hesitation to remove everything, including his underwear, revealing he already had an impressive hard-on. He climbed onto the bed, and climbed onto Shirou. “To be honest,” he said, and his voice was a bit huskier than usual, “I haven't actually had the chance to use this bed for anything yet.”

“Really?” Shirou asked.

“You sound like you don't believe me.”

“You've had a lot of high-profile girlfriends.” Shirou had no idea how he was managing to carry on this conversation as Mr. Kish knelt nakedly on top of him. He must be more nervous than he'd realized.

“I don’t take them on business trips.” Mr. Kish started to unbutton the rest of his shirt. He pulled it out of Shirou’s pants with a much rougher gesture than Shirou had used, but he didn't try to get it off him completely. Instead, he pushed Shirou’s undershirt up to expose his chest and pinched his nipples.

Shirou made a movement as if to sit up so he could get the shirt off, but Mr. Kish held him down with one hand on the center of his chest. “Stay right where you are,” he said, and the expression on his face only served to remind Shirou that there was only a couple of layers of fabric between his groin and his boss’s ass.

Mr. Kish moved then. He walked backward on his knees until he was in a good position to unbuckle Shirou’s belt. He slowly unzipped Shirou’s pants and the younger man held his breath the entire time.

Instead of actually taking his pants off, Mr. Kish merely tugged them down, then followed that with his underpants. Shirou’s cock came free, as hard as Mr. Kish’s was. He flinched a bit when his boss’s hand wrapped around him. The head of his cock was already mostly exposed, but Mr. Kish pulled his foreskin down completely and, with no warning or hesitation, leaned over to wrap his lips around the head.

Shirou moaned loudly and tried to arch upwards but Mr. Kish put one warning hand on his hip. His other hand was still wrapped around Shirou’s cock, although he removed it in short order as he sucked the cock deeper into his mouth. He tugged Shirou’s pants down a little further and slid his hand between his thighs to caress his hole. He didn't try to push his finger in, which Shirou both appreciated and didn't appreciate. It would be uncomfortable with no lube, but the added stimulation would have been amazing.

Then Mr. Kish abruptly removed his hands from both Shirou’s hips and his ass and tapped the side of his hip. He looked up at Shirou and Shirou looked down and met his eyes, but it took him a moment to realize what the other man wanted as he bobbed his head on Shirou’s cock and then stilled again.

Shirou thrust upward gently, wanting to show that he could control himself, but also wanting to fuck his boss’s face with abandon. Mr. Kish made no protest, so he continued. He tried not to push in hard enough to choke his boss. It was a struggle, though, because it felt so good.

He slowed, finally, grunting. “I'm gonna come,” he said. Mr. Kish put both hands on Shirou’s hips to pin them to the bed and removed his mouth with a soft pop. He licked the head a few more times before sitting up and using his hand to bring Shirou over the edge. Shirou came hard, all over Mr. Kish’s hand and forearm and his own stomach. He lay breathing heavy and watching fuzzily as Mr. Kish licked his hand before wiping it on the bedspread. He noted that his boss had the sense to only use his left hand, as it would be a lot more difficult to deal with a dirty bandage on the plane.

His boss was sitting on his knees and still had a raging hard-on. Shirou made a movement to sit up, but again Mr. Kish stopped him from moving, this time with a hand against his stomach. He knee-walked forward until he was kneeling over Shirou’s chest before he leaned forward. He braced himself on the headboard with his bandaged hand and started jerking himself off with the other. Shirou couldn't do anything but watch the sight above him, although his hands were on Mr. Kish’s thighs and he squeezed the muscle there somewhat involuntarily.

When Mr. Kish finally came, most of it landed on Shirou’s face. He didn't protest. He just closed his eyes, then stayed perfectly still as his boss shifted again and leaned down to lick his own come off Shirou’s left eyelid.

Shirou opened his eyes after that and watched Mr. Kish climb off him and go to the little closet-like bathroom to wet a washcloth. He came back and wiped Shirou’s face, stomach, and dick clean. Shirou finally sat up after that and took the washcloth to wipe Mr. Kish as well, which was mostly a pointless gesture. Then he took the washcloth back to the bathroom, pulling his pants back up to make walking easier.

Mr. Kish found his underwear among the discarded clothing on the floor and put it on. Shirou gathered up the rest of the clothes. He hung his jacket up in the tiny closet that was opposite the bathroom, then carefully folded and hung Mr Kish’s pants before hanging up his boss’s shirt and the purple windbreaker. He noticed Mr. Kish had not been wearing an undershirt. After considering for a moment, he took off his own shirt and hung that as well.

His undershirt actually had a little bit of come on it, although he wasn't sure if it was his own or Mr. Kish’s, so he took that off as well and rinsed the spot in the bathroom sink before hanging it over the door to dry. He doubted it would dry much before they landed but he could put his shirt back on without it if he had to.

While he was hanging the undershirt, Mr. Kish wrapped his arms around his waist from behind and kissed his neck. “That was very nice,” he said.

“Sorry I let you do all the work,” Shirou said.

“If I hadn’t wanted to, I wouldn’t have,” Mr. Kish said. He guided Shirou back towards the bed. They both got in, this time sliding under the covers, and Shirou fell asleep with Mr. Kish spooning him from behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Somehow they managed to both wake up, dress, and get back into their seats before the pilot let them know they were beginning their descent. Shirou got his tablet out, having barely started all the expense reports he needed to finish for the trip, and got to work on those. Mr. Kish just sat and watched him.

“It's hard to work with you staring at me like that,” Shirou said. He kept mistyping numbers and he was getting frustrated.

“You'll have to get used to it,” Mr. Kish replied, which somehow made Shirou blush.

Between Mr. Kish’s provocation and his own wandering thoughts, he made no significant process on the report before they were touching down at the airport.

Shirou pulled out his phone to make sure the driver was there. He also managed to convince Mr. Kish to wear the sunglasses for a second time, and wore his hat, but he had vastly underestimated how much buzz the incident at the hotel had generated. A lot of people were staring at them, or taking photos with their phones, or both.

Mr. Kish grabbed his wrist as he kept trying to keep an eye on all the other people in the airport at once. “Shirou,” he said.

“Yeah?” Shirou asked, looking at someone over his boss’s shoulder. They hadn't paused in walking.

“Ignore them. Focus on the goal.” He dropped Shirou’s wrist and continued to stride purposefully through the airport towards where their car was waiting. There was a small contingent of press waiting outside, but Mr. Kish paid them no attention and Shirou scurried behind him, trying to keep his focus.

Despite Mr. Kish's instruction, Shirou couldn't calm down until they were safely in the car and on the road. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning back against the headrest. “How do you cope with that ever?” he asked. This was certainly the most attention Mr. Kish had gotten since Shirou started working for him, but the man had certainly been involved with countless scandals in the past.

“I just don't care what any of them think,” Mr. Kish said.

“That seems difficult,” Shirou said.

Mr. Kish raised an eyebrow at him. “It isn't difficult at all. The media dogs who swarm after gossip like that are worthless. The paparazzi that perpetuate this kind of pointless frenzy over other people’s personal business are even lower than dogs. And the people who waste their meaningless lives on dissecting the lives of the rich and famous aren’t worth my time or interest.”

“Isn’t that harsh?”

“I don’t see why being subjected to constant public scrutiny just because I have a successful business and a lot of money would incline me to be anything other than ‘harsh,’ or why I should feel like I have an obligation to act as a free circus performer to enrich the lives of others.”

Shirou couldn’t really argue with that. It was a fact that celebrity status came hand in hand with harassment and public judgement, which was unfair, but Mr. Kish in particular was famous mostly for being handsome and young as well as successful. “But you date people in the public eye,” he pointed out. “Which only puts you in it more.”

“I don’t feel obligated to perform for the base masses,” Mr. Kish said, “But I won’t say I dislike the spotlight at all. Also, those women suit me. Most of them aren’t looking for commitment. They’re using me as a stepping stone, or as a way to pass the time that won’t hinder their careers.”

“That’s cynical,” Shirou said. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, though. Was that all this was? Something to pass the time? Except, he thought, that having sex with an employee was not something that was socially acceptable, so it was actually a risk to both their careers. Mr. Kish may run the company, but he still had a board and shareholders to answer to.

Mr. Kish shrugged. “Every worthy woman I’ve ever met would choose her career over me. It doesn’t bother me. The women I’m interested in know how to get what they want.”

Shirou realized the other man was watching him again. Gauging his reaction, maybe? He kept his expression passive. He wondered if this was some kind of test. He wondered, as he had been wondering all along, if Mr. Kish considered what they’d started as having potential for a serious relationship. He wondered if that was what he wanted himself. Would he choose his career over Gilgamesh? It was pretty clear that wasn’t the case, or he would have rejected the man’s advances in the first place.

It wasn’t that Shirou had a problem with no-strings-attached, casual sex. He’d engaged in that on more than a few occasions, mostly when he’d been in college. It had always been something of a stress reliever for him, a way to satisfy his needs when he didn’t have time or inclination for a more serious relationship. The problem was those occasions had always been with someone he didn’t really know. A friend of a friend, a casual acquaintance, even, on two particularly memorable occasions, strangers picked up at a bar. He wasn't sure he could sustain a “friends with benefits” kind of relationship. And this wasn't even that, because Mr. Kish wasn't his friend, he was his boss.

He also couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Kish had ever slept with any of his other personal assistants, which led him to wondering how many times Mr. Kish had slept with a man. He’d been with a couple of men who had considered themselves straight before, but he didn’t really think Mr. Kish fit into that category. Maybe he was just bisexual? Shirou had never dated anyone who identified that way, although he didn’t actually have a problem with it. It was better than those guys who still insisted they were straight even when they were balls-deep in Shirou’s asshole.

At some point he was going to start actually regretting letting himself get into this in the first place. Sure, Mr. Kish had been the one to make the first move, and Shirou didn't really know what would have happened if he'd said no, but he hadn't said no so he was as much to blame for his current situation as Mr. Kish was.

Regrets could wait until Monday, when he had to face Mr. Kish back in the office, not now while they were still alone together. He would have all evening and all day on Sunday to stress about it on his own, so for now he might as well just enjoy his boss’s company.

Mr. Kish spent the rest of the drive telling Shirou about the sword he was purchasing from his guest, which had apparently been used as a prop in some famous movie set in Japan. Shirou, despite being ethnically Japanese, had been raised in America by a man who had lived in England most of his life, and he didn’t know much about Japanese swords or Japanese films. When he’d lived in Japan during his year studying abroad, he’d gone to a few museums, but the swords had been among the least interesting things to him. His brother was the one into that kind of stuff. He also hadn’t seen a single movie in the theater while he was there, although he had seen a considerable amount of samurai dramas on TV thanks to the family he’d stayed with.

He was having some trouble figuring out if Gilgamesh wanted the sword because it was a prop or because it was a sword. “So you collect swords?” he asked, once Mr. Kish had finished telling him about the specific film it had been used in.

“I collect props. Specifically weapons.” His boss shrugged. “My great-grandfather was a film director in the 1920s and 30s,” he said. “My mother had a lot of memorabilia from that. I used to collect costumes and posters as well, but it’s the weapons that are my favorites. So many of them get reused in film after film, or get remade for different movies.”

“Do you ever exhibit them?”

Mr. Kish gave Shirou a strange look. “No, why should I? I collect them for my own enjoyment.”

Shirou frowned. “I don’t know, if you love them so much, wouldn’t it be nice to share them?”

“I have no interest in sharing,” Mr. Kish said. “People can see them in the films if they want to see them.”

Shirou was saved from having to find a reply to that by their arrival at Mr. Kish’s house, finally. Mr. Kish, like many wealthy New Yorkers, did not live in the actual city, so it could take anywhere from forty-five minutes to an hour and a half to get to his home from the airport.

This would actually be Shirou’s first time going inside Mr. Kish’s enormous house. It was a modern, imposing-looking building, which Shirou thought didn't really suit his boss. He would have expected Mr. Kish to want to live in some kind of sprawling gothic monstrosity rather than this boxy building.

Mr. Kish gave the driver the code for the gate and they drove in. There was a large, semi-circular driveway in front of the house, and the driver carefully stopped right in front of the steps that lead to the entrance. Shirou got out, ready to pull Mr. Kish’s bags out of the trunk, but before he could a young woman dressed in a crisp black dress with a white collar came out of the house and excused herself before moving in front of him to take his boss’s suitcase.

Shirou had not, in fact, realized that Mr. Kish had a live-in maid. Mr. Kish, for his part, completely ignored the woman and the driver and went straight inside. Shirou scrambled to get his own bag, thanked and dismissed the driver, and followed his boss. He could call a regular taxi for himself when he left later.

The interior of the house was as sleek and modern as the exterior, with smooth, monochromatic walls and flooring. Mr. Kish went straight through the large, rather echoey entryway to a living room that was still monochromatic but accented with a few colorful furniture pieces and made welcoming by the large wall of windows that looked out onto a wooded back garden. Shirou wondered where the pool Mr. Kish had mentioned was. There was a patio directly outside but no sign of any lounge chairs or other pool accessories.

Mr. Kish had sank down onto the gold and crimson couch that occupied the center of the room, putting his feet up on a glass and metal coffee table. Shirou supposed the entire place had been furnished by an interior designer who didn't necessarily have the best idea of Mr. Kish’s personal taste, although that couch did seem like something his boss would pick out on his own. It didn’t entirely fit in.

It was nearly five at this point, and Mr. Kish’s guests were still supposed to arrive at six. Shirou wasn’t sure what he needed to be doing. He stood in the living room, looking at Mr. Kish, who had tilted his head back and covered his face with one arm like he was tired, until the maid startled him with her sudden appearance. “Sir, dinner will be ready at 6:15,” she said.

Mr. Kish merely waved at her with his other arm. Then he held his right hand up and regarded the bandage. “Alicia.”

“Sir?” the maid responded. She had already turned to leave, so she looked back over her shoulder.

“Go and buy some bandages.”

“Shall I go before your guests arrive?”

“After they get here, so you can answer the door. And take his bags.”

She nodded and turned to Shirou, who surrendered his backpack and duffel bag to her.

“I didn’t know you had a maid,” Shirou said.

Mr. Kish wrinkled his nose. “She’s not here all the time. There’s a cook, too, right now, to make dinner, but I don’t usually have anyone here when I’m here.”

So she wasn’t a live-in maid, then. Shirou wondered why he felt relieved at that. There wasn’t any reason he should.

His boss patted the couch next to him. “Sit down,” he said.

Shirou sat, a normal distance from the other man, who scowled and scooted closer himself. “Don’t act like an employee when you’re in my home.”

“I still am your employee, though. I mean, I’m here in that capacity, aren’t I?” Shirou simultaneously wanted to get back up and to lean into Mr. Kish’s side.

Instead, he sat there stiffly as Mr. Kish rested a hand on the top of his thigh and moved his face in closer. “Technically,” he said, moving his hand higher, almost to Shirou’s hip. “I suppose.”

This probably would be a good time to broach the subject of what Mr. Kish was actually thinking was going to happen with this relationship, but Shirou couldn’t bring himself to actually say anything. He tensed as his boss kneaded his skin through his trousers, but he turned his head just in time for Mr. Kish to catch his lips in a kiss.

It wasn’t an entirely satisfactory kiss, because all Shirou could think about was the maid coming back, and the angle wasn’t great because Mr. Kish was actually a little too close to him. Still, it left Shirou slightly breathless. “You’re my guest tonight,” his boss said, not moving his face away and staring deep into Shirou’s eyes. “Where do you get such an odd eye color from?”

“What?” Shirou knew he’d been asked a question, but he didn’t really comprehend what it was.

Mr. Kish moved away, taking his hand off Shirou’s leg and putting it across the back of the couch behind him instead. “Where did you get such an odd eye color?”

“I could ask the same about you,” Shirou said, reflexively. He tended to avoid questions like that, and had always found the easiest way to do so was to get the asker to start talking about themselves.

“Mine are from my mother’s side, although hers were much more copper,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone with quite the shade of gold you have.”

Sometimes his deflection tactic didn’t work. In this case, he decided he may as well just be honest. After all, Uruk’s HR department probably knew, anyway, since they had done a thorough background check. Letting his direct boss know wouldn’t make much of a difference, probably. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m adopted, and I can’t remember my birth parents.”

Mr. Kish looked like he didn’t quite understand. “You don’t know anything about your genetics, then?”

“I know I’m Japanese. Although my adoptive father is, too… I was born in America, though. I didn’t actually learn Japanese until I was older. I have a brother, too. I mean a biological brother. Kiritsugu adopted both of us.” So much for his typical reluctance to talk about his adoption. He didn’t know why he’d said so much. Normally he just left it at “I’m adopted” and didn’t bother to explain the rest. Although he didn’t think he was going to explain his entire childhood now, either. Also, he’d slipped and called his father by his name. It was how he addressed him to his face, but it often invited questions when he used his name in conversation.

“A brother, hmm? I was an only child.”

Shirou felt like that was self-evident from the way Mr. Kish acted. “I would have guessed,” he said. “My brother doesn’t look much like me, though.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Disappointing?” Shirou repeated.

Mr. Kish smiled at him, a smile that sent a tingling sensation down Shirou’s spine. “Only a little.”

“Mr. Kish?” The maid, Alicia, interrupted them. Shirou jumped a little, again, because he hadn’t seen or heard her come in. He also blushed a little, really wishing he wasn’t sitting so close to his boss right now. He doubted Mr. Kish would have a maid he didn’t trust, but like the pilot, Shirou just didn’t want to think about anyone else knowing what kind of relationship he was currently engaged in with his boss.

“What?” Mr. Kish said, a little shortly.

“Where would you like to receive your guests? Here?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. They’ll want to be shown around, anyway. They’re not here yet, are they?”

“No. I will bring them in when they arrive.”

“Leave us alone until then,” Mr. Kish said.

Somehow, that made Shirou blush more. He stared at his knees to try to hide it.

Shirou didn’t hear the maid actually leave, but suddenly Mr. Kish’s hand was beneath his chin, tilting his head back up. “We have a half an hour still,” he said.

Was that a proposition? Did he expect Shirou to make an offer? Shirou just stared at him, until Mr. Kish laughed. “You’re tense. Relax,” he said.

“Sorry,” Shirou said, automatically. His boss hadn’t removed his hand from his chin, though, so it was hard for him to actually relax.

“You’re never so nervous at the office.”

“That’s not fair. That’s different,” Shirou said. He had nothing to be nervous about at the office. He knew what he was doing there, and he knew the boundaries of his job. Right now he didn’t know much of anything, and Mr. Kish certainly had the upper hand.

“I know,” Mr. Kish said. “I’m still thinking of what I can do with you.”

The way he said that sent a considerably stronger shiver down Shirou’s back. He decided the best idea at this immediate moment was to get professional. “Is there anything I need to know before your guests arrive? You haven’t told me their names.”

Mr. Kish sighed, apparently disappointed, and took his hand from Shirou again. “Furuya Tanemoto and his wife, Sayuri,” he said. He pronounced their names very deliberately, which came out sounding slightly stilted. “Furuya went to college with me, so he knows my interests. He doesn’t collect things like that himself, but he told me he’d come across this one at a charity auction of some sort and asked if I wanted it.”

Shirou had been expecting a business acquaintance rather than an old college one. The idea of Mr. Kish actually having college friends was a little hard to grasp. “So he’s flying all the way here just to give it to you?”

“Who would do that? I’m sure he’s got some business in the city.”

“What does he do for a living?”

Mr. Kish shrugged. “He’s a buyer for some big-name department store in Japan.”

“Oh, is he here for fashion week, then?” Shirou asked.

“Is that going on? I only pay attention to that kind of thing when I’m dating a model,” Mr. Kish said dismissively.

Shirou laughed. “I think that’s the least relatable thing you have ever said to me.”

“Oh? Because you’re fashion-conscious or because you’ve never dated a model?”

“Both.”

“Hmm.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Ignore what Furuya calls me.”

Shirou had no idea what that meant, but before he could ask Gilgamesh suddenly stood. Shirou followed his example automatically, although he had not heard the door or anything, but Alicia came in a half minute later, leading a man and a woman.

The man was rather short. He was obviously Japanese, and dressed more casually than Shirou had been expecting, in a pair of obviously tailored jeans and a tweed jacket over a t-shirt printed with a logo Shirou did not recognize. The woman was taller than him, about Shirou’s height, and thin, dressed in a loose-fitting, smock-like dress with a large statement necklace. She was also wearing a pair of mid-calf cowboy boots, which shouldn’t have worked with the dress but did.

Both of them were smiling, and the man all but bounded over to Mr. Kish when they came in. He shook the other man’s hand enthusiastically. “Gil!”

Shirou had never heard anyone call Mr. Kish that to his face. Even the media normally called him by his full name in articles. The only time he'd ever seen “Gil” used was purely in gossip magazines or websites. “Furuya,” Mr. Kish acknowledged as they shook hands.

Mr. Tanemoto turned to the woman. “This is my beautiful wife, Sayuri.”

Sayuri nodded, but didn't say anything. Mr. Kish had said she didn't speak much English, but it was possible she understood more than she could speak herself.

Mr. Kish put a hand on Shirou’s shoulder. “This is my assistant, Shirou Emiya.”

“A Japanese assistant, now? I'm sure he's a hard worker,” Mr. Tanemoto said. He offered a hand to Shirou.

Shirou shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“Now, Gil, show me this ridiculous house of yours! I want to see where this sword I've brought you is going to end up.”

The tour of the house, with Shirou translating what Mr. Kish said for Mrs. Tanemoto, lasted about a half an hour. The maid had said dinner would be ready at 6:15, so they were late arriving in the dining room, but the food was not yet on the table.

A woman pushing a cart showed up as soon as they'd all sat down, however. She served everyone soup and wine, set a couple of pitchers of water on the table, and vanished. She must be the cook, since Mr. Kish had said he only had a maid and a cook.

Talk at the table mostly consisted of Mr. Tanemoto explaining in probably exaggerated detail how he obtained the sword, which he had not yet actually presented to Mr. Kish. Shirou tried to make separate small talk with Mrs. Tanemoto, assuming she probably already knew all the details, but she only asked him to keep translating. She seemed fairly disinterested in what Mr. Kish had to say, so Shirou didn't really know what the point was, except that she must be even less interested in anything Shirou might have to say.

After the soup, the main course arrived, with more wine. The soup had been something creamy that Shirou had been unable to conclusively identify, but the main course was extremely dressed up steak and potatoes. He wondered about that choice, whether it had been made by the cook or by Mr. Kish ahead of time, but it was actually very good. Steak was something Shirou didn't often eat. He didn't dislike it, but he always had a hard time cooking it exactly the way he wanted on the stove they had at the apartment.

Mr. Tanemoto turned his attention to Shirou, having finally finished his story. “You're Japanese-American, right?”

“Yeah, I was born here. I went to school in Japan for a little while.”

“The opposite of me!” Mr. Tanemoto declared. “How's working for this guy? He keeps things interesting, huh?”

Mr. Kish’s eyes narrowed a bit at that, but Mr. Tanemoto either didn't notice or didn't care. Shirou laughed a little. “He keeps me busy,” he said. He was willing himself not to blush or make any unintentional innuendos.

“I need to know, who are you wearing? It's not often I can't recognize a suit when I see one.”

Shirou looked down at himself. He hadn't expected a question about his clothes, so he had to quickly remind himself of what he had on. It was one of Medea’s. “The designer is Medea Kuzuki,” he said. “She's a friend of mine who runs a small label.”

“Japanese, too?”

“Her husband is. She's Greek, I think?” That was what Rin had told him, anyway.

“Is she doing a show this week?”

“She already did one. Um, I think I have her card if you'd like? I can get it after dinner.” It was in his wallet, which was in his backpack, and he had no idea where his backpack had ended up.

“That would be great! It's a very nice jacket.”

Mrs. Tanemoto seemed more interested in Shirou after that short conversation, even though Shirou had been unable to translate any of it for her. Mr. Tanemoto went back to talking to Mr. Kish, but Shirou couldn't pay much attention to what they were saying under Mrs. Tanemoto’s sudden barrage of questions about where he'd grown up and where he'd gone to school in Japan.

The main course was followed by a dessert, which was, of all things, apple pie. This had to have been a specific request from Mr. Kish, because Mr. Tanemoto immediately started to lament his inability to get “good, American apple pie” in Japan. Mr. Kish actually offered to get the cook’s recipe for him.

Alicia reappeared to help the cook clear dinner away, and then she brought a long, thin box to Mr. Tanemoto. This, presumably, was the sword itself. “I can't stay much longer,” Mr. Tanemoto said, “I've still got some real business to attend to tonight. But here's the reason I came!”

He presented it to Mr. Kish, who opened the box to reveal a katana on a padded velvet cushion. It didn’t really look that special. “It was difficult to get it out of the country, to be honest. It’s not real steel but there was still a good deal of paperwork.”

“I appreciate it,” Mr. Kish said. His eyes were practically sparkling as he picked up the canister on top and looked closer at the label. “This is a nice addition to my collection. I don't have much that's pre-war.”

“That's what you'd said before,” Mr. Tanemoto said. “Well, it's a small price to pay for how much help you gave me in college.”

* * *

Another half an hour later and the Tanemotos were gone and Shirou and Mr. Kish were once again in the living room. Mr. Kish had returned the sword to its box and taken it to what he called his exhibit room. The rest of his collection was housed in custom glass cabinets there, and the sword would be added to the display once he’d commissioned or bought a stand for it.

The maid had cleaned up after dinner, and then she and the cook, whose name was Penny, had been dismissed. Shirou was awaiting his own dismissal. Mr. Kish had sat back down on the couch, where he was currently leaning back with his eyes closed, but Shirou sat on one of the other chairs in the room instead.

“Um, Mr. Kish?” Shirou said, afraid his boss was actually falling asleep.

“Call me by my first name,” Mr. Kish said, tilting his head back up and looking at Shirou through half-lidded eyes.

Shirou hesitated. “Gilgamesh,” he said.

“Yes, that's better. Use that.”

“Is it alright if I leave?”

“Come here,” Mr. Kish, Gilgamesh, said.

Shirou got up and went over to the couch. Gilgamesh was sitting with his legs wide open, and Shirou stood between them. It was immediately obvious that he was not going home tonight.

His last thought before Gilgamesh grabbed his tie and tugged him down into a kiss was that he needed to let Artoria know.

Gilgamesh’s arm snaked around his waist, encouraging him to climb into the other man’s lap while they kissed. He grabbed his boss’s lapels with both hands and leaned in as close as he could possibly get, while Gilgamesh’s moved his hands from Shirou’s back to his ass, then up again under his jacket to roughly tug Shirou’s shirt out of his pants.

Shirou, unable to control himself, let go of Gilgamesh and took his own jacket off. The other man made an appreciative noise at that. His hands were on Shirou’s skin now, beneath both his shirt and undershirt, although he wasn’t doing anything but holding them there. Shirou, more careful, slid the knot of Gilgamesh’s tie down and started unbuttoning his collar.

“Hold on,” Gilgamesh said. “Let’s go to my bedroom.”

Shirou actually moaned a little at the suggestion, and before he could get off of Gilgamesh’s lap the other man stood and carried Shirou with him, his arms hooked beneath Shirou’s butt to support him. Shirou clung tightly to his neck, his mind too clouded with lust to really worry about Gilgamesh dropping him. He wasn’t exactly light.

He expected to be dropped on the bed, but Gilgamesh actually sat down on the edge of it and let Shirou slip out of his grasp. Shirou put one foot on the floor to keep from sliding off, then Gilgamesh pulled his hands away completely and said, “Get undressed.”

Shirou stood and undressed as Gilgamesh watched him. He felt like his shirt was taking an eternity to unbutton, and he almost forgot to take his tie off before he finally shoved the shirt off. He yanked his undershirt over his head, then fumbled again with his own belt. At least he had gravity to assist him with removing his pants, as he let them fall around his ankles and then, with no hesitation, let his underwear follow them.

Their roles were reversed from how it had been on the plane, as Gilgamesh had removed his tie but not taken any of the rest of his clothing off. Shirou’s cock was already half hard, but he felt it stiffen further as Gilgamesh stared at him.

“Get on the bed,” Gilgamesh said, after taking a moment to look him over. Shirou obliged, not at all minding Gilgamesh’s commanding tone. “Elbows and knees,” his boss clarified as he started to lay down on his back.

He shivered as he got into position, wondering what his boss had planned. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Gilgamesh took an unexpectedly large tube of lube and a couple of condoms out of the drawer in one of the bedside tables before climbing after Shirou.

Shirou was expecting lube and a finger, but what he got was Gilgamesh’s tongue, licking a stripe from the base of his balls to his asshole. He arched his back at the unexpected sensation. He would never have expected Gilgamesh Kish to be eating him out, but that was what was happening, and Shirou could barely contain himself. He felt like he could come just from that, and when Gilgamesh wrapped a hand around his cock, he very nearly did.

After giving his perineum a hard suck, Gilgamesh moved away. He kissed the base of Shirou’s spine then let go of his cock and ran both of his hands slowly from Shirou’s hips up to his chest. He pinched his assistant’s nipples as he leaned over him. “You're so well put together in the office,” he said, his voice low and much too close to Shirou’s ear. Shirou was completely naked, but Gilgamesh was still mostly dressed, and the way his unbuttoned shirt rubbed against Shirou’s sweat-slicked skin was almost unbearable. Shirou wanted to reply but only managed another low moan, and Gilgamesh chuckled. “Who knew how easy it was to take you apart?” he said.

Shirou couldn't argue with that. He certainly felt like he'd been taken to pieces already. All he actually wanted right now was for Gilgamesh to fuck him, but his boss was taking his time with that. He didn't even have his dick out yet. His belt wasn't even undone. Shirou did not understand how he could stand it.

He arched his back at the cold, wet sensation of Gilgamesh pouring lube over his ass, but then he spread his legs wider to try to entice the man to do something more. He was rewarded by one hand roughly squeezing one cheek and a single finger of the other hand entering him.

“You're really a mess,” Gilgamesh said as he pushed another finger in. He was purposefully avoiding anything more than the faintest push against Shirou’s prostate, which was maddening. He abruptly dug the fingernails of his free hand into Shirou’s skin, making the younger man arch again and push back against the fingers penetrating him.

“Fuck me,” Shirou managed to say, although his voice was breathless.

“Excuse me?” Gilgamesh asked, pausing the movement of his fingers.

“Please!” Shirou gasped, “Fuck me, please!”

Gilgamesh scissored his fingers as if assessing whether or not Shirou was opened enough for him. Shirou wouldn’t have expected his boss to be so fastidious about that, which wasn’t really a bad thing–except now, in the moment, it was torture, as Gilgamesh merely added a third finger rather than his dick. Shirou pushed back more assertively than before, and the man paused the movement of his fingers again until Shirou stilled with a frustrated groan.

“Don't worry, you'll get it when you're ready for it,” Gilgamesh said. He'd moved the hand that had been on Shirou’s ass to his shoulder and he was kneading the muscle there just slightly. The bandage felt rough against Shirou’s hot skin.

Abruptly, Gilgamesh pulled both his hands away. Shirou craned his neck to look behind him, distressed by the sudden absence of touch, and saw that his boss was finally undressing. “Sit up and turn around,” he said as he carelessly tossed his shirt to the floor.

Shirou obliged, shakily rising to his knees and turning to face Gilgamesh. He shuddered as he felt lube, now warm from his own body heat, trickle down his inner thigh.

He didn't wait for further instruction, instead reaching out to undo Gilgamesh’s belt and fly. His erection was prominent through the expensive fabric of his pants, but it was even more so once Shirou had pushed that fabric away. He drew his boss’s cock out of his underwear almost reverently, and immediately leaned down to run his tongue across the tip.

Gilgamesh’s hand rested heavily on Shirou’s head as Shirou licked and sucked on his cock. He didn't give Shirou long though. He tugged Shirou’s head up and kissed him. Shirou shifted his hips forward so that their cocks rubbed together, waiting to be allowed to climb into the other man’s lap completely.

Gilgamesh broke the kiss so he could reach over to where he'd left the condoms on the edge of the bed. He picked one up, then tore it open, but Shirou took it from him before he could start putting it on. He rolled it down slowly, lightly pumping as he did, but as soon as it was on completely Gilgamesh grabbed him around the torso and pulled him roughly forward.

Shirou hovered on his knees above his boss, and he moaned wantonly when he felt the tip of his cock rub against his entrance. This time Gilgamesh’s hands on his hips, holding tight enough to bruise, prevented him from sinking down to take the whole thing in one movement like he had the last time. Instead, Gilgamesh lowered him inch by inch at an excruciating pace.

He was suspecting this was his boss’s favorite position. He personally preferred getting fucked from behind, but for now he couldn't really complain, especially now that he was fully seated on the other man’s cock. He was content to let Gilgamesh guide things, anyway.

Gilgamesh kissed him. That was why he preferred this position, Shirou thought. He liked his mouth to be accessible. He leaned forward then, supporting Shirou’s weight with both his arms wrapped around the younger man’s shoulders and used his new leverage to begin thrusting.

“You feel so good,” Gilgamesh said between kisses. “God, I should have taken you to bed your first day on the job. No, I should've bent you over my desk. I should've fucked you right then and there.”

“Were…” Shirou tried to speak, but he couldn't keep from gasping with every thrust, which made forming words difficult. “I didn't…”

“I had you call a whore for me because I was frustrated I couldn’t take you home,” his boss said. “All you had to do was offer to take her place. We could have been doing this a week ago.”

Shirou’s mind could barely process what Gilgamesh was telling him. He found it hard to believe his boss had wanted to have sex with him from day one. And he, more than once, after making sure Artoria wasn't coming home anytime soon, had fantasized about what would happen if Gilgamesh’s on-call prostitute had not been available.

He probably would have said as much right now if he could manage to speak, but just then Gilgamesh dropped him. He made a noise somewhere between a scream and a groan as he bounced back against the bed and Gilgamesh pulled his hips up and leaned in to get a better angle. His thrusts increased in both speed and power, and Shirou dug his fingers into the sheets and arched his back as the shift in angle provided a whole new set of sensations.

His own cock bounced freely against his stomach, and he ached for want of friction, but both Gilgamesh’s hands were occupied holding up his hips and Shirou felt like they would tilt sideways if he took his arms off the bed.

Finally, Gilgamesh pulled one of his legs up to rest against his own shoulder, letting him adjust his position yet again, and Shirou came without even being touched, all over his own stomach and chest. Gilgamesh released at almost the same time, with one last deep thrust, riding out his orgasm buried inside Shirou.

He pulled out almost tenderly after that, lowering a twitching Shirou completely to the bed, then peeling off and tying the condom before tossing it in the general direction of the wastebasket beside the bed. He crawled up between Shirou’s legs and Shirou watched, tense and panting, as his boss licked the come off his torso before moving to lay completely over Shirou. He kissed the younger man again, but it was a soft, tender kiss in comparison to earlier.

Shirou, feeling daring, reached up with one hand to entwine his fingers in Gilgamesh’s. His boss was heavy, but the weight felt nice, comfortable and reassuring, although the buckle of his belt was digging into Shirou’s hipbone. He thought hazily that he still needed to tell Artoria he wasn’t coming home that night, but his phone could be a thousand miles away for all that he felt like moving right now.

Gilgamesh nuzzled his face into the side of Shirou’s neck. “Where have you been all my life?” he mumbled. He sounded almost drunk with contentment.

“How many men have you slept with?” Shirou blurted out.

The other man paused from nibbling at Shirou’s skin and rolled off of Shirou so he was laying on his side beside him instead. He pulled his hand away from Shirou’s so he could prop himself up on his elbow. Shirou looked over at him, trying to tell from the man’s expression if he was offended by the question. “You mean besides you? One. Why do you ask?” He didn’t seem angry, just honestly curious.

“You’re…” Shirou started. He was lying in bed naked having just been thoroughly fucked by his boss and he was blushing as he tried to speak now. “You’re very… good at it.”

That made Gilgamesh grin, which made Shirou want to cover his face in embarrassment. “Oh, really?” Gilgamesh asked. “And how many men are you comparing me to? I heard details of some of them already.”

Shirou flushed at the memory of that dinner. While he knew Gilgamesh had slept with plenty of women beyond that one man he had apparently had relations with, he had known a lot of gay men who, like straight men, upheld the ridiculous double standard of always wanting their partners to be untouched previously. Shirou was not untouched by any means. He had done a considerable amount of what Artoria had referred to as “experimentation” in college, and even a little bit in high school. Enough that answering Gilgamesh’s question honestly was actually rather difficult, and he was  _ not _ going to start counting on his fingers right now. “Enough,” he said, “To know that you’re one of the best.”

“ _ One _ of the best?” Gilgamesh repeated, arching an eyebrow.

Again, Shirou couldn’t tell if he was actually offended. He decided to play it as a tease. “Maybe the best. I think I might need a few more examples from you, though.”

“Is that so? Maybe I should still have you over my desk in the office,” Gilgamesh said, and Shirou actually shivered because it didn’t sound at all like he was joking.

Shirou rolled onto his side impulsively and leaned in to kiss Gilgamesh again. Gilgamesh responded, lazily, but they were both tired by now. “Can I spend the night?” Shirou asked, although he felt stupid the second the words had left his mouth. Gilgamesh was probably assuming he’d stay anyway, but he needed that confirmation.

“By all means, but we should shower first.”

Shirou made a face at that. “How about a bath?” he asked. “And let me change the bandage on your hand again.”

“Only in the finest, rose-scented water,” Gilgamesh said, making an extravagant gesture that was lost on Shirou as he was too close to Gilgamesh to actually see it.

“Rose-scented? Really?”

“You sound dubious. What do you prefer? Lavender, maybe? Jasmine?”

“I can’t tell if you’re serious or joking right now.”

* * *

It turned out, a half hour later when they’d finally made it out of the bed, that Gilgamesh had not in fact been joking. He had an extensive selection of bath bombs, the majority of which involved shimmery gold dust of some kind. This was not the first time Shirou hadn’t known quite how to react to something related to his boss, and he was having an incredibly difficult time imagining the man actually using any of these. Then again, Gilgamesh always smelled good, and he never did smell quite like the musky or earthy scents of most men’s colognes.

“Which do you recommend?” he asked, finally, after considering the selection for a long couple of minutes.

Gilgamesh, who had started filling his outrageously huge bathtub, having finally stripped down completely, came over. He picked one. “This one,” he said, picking up one that looked like a solid gold lump. He carried it over to the tub and dropped it in. Shirou went over and watched it dissolve, his eyebrows raising as it turned the water a color that made it look like melted butter.

Before turning the water off, GIlgamesh grabbed Shirou and kissed him again, a kiss that lasted long enough that the tub got dangerously full before either of them noticed and turned the water off. Under normal circumstances, Shirou would probably take a shower before getting into the bathtub, a habit he’d learned from the time he’d spent living in Japan while still in school, but today he was tired enough that he just didn’t particularly care. They both stepped in, Gilgamesh leaning back against the side of the tub and Shirou leaning back against him, watching the way tiny specks of gold swirled through the water when they moved. It was warm and comfortable, the rise and fall of Gilgamesh’s chest as he breathed lulling Shirou into a drowse.

“I need to figure out who hired you and give them a promotion,” Gilgamesh said into Shirou’s hair.

Shirou laughed. “The first thing you said to me was, ‘Who the hell hired a male secretary?’” he said.

“I don’t remember that,” Gilgamesh said. “All I remember is how much I wanted to see you without your clothes on.”

“If you’d asked me to, I’m sure I would have stripped then and there.”

“Really? I’ll keep that in mind.”

They both lapsed into silence after that. Shirou’s mind went back to his worry about where this relationship could possibly go, and what was going to happen at the office on Monday. They’d had sex three times now, and they were currently naked in a bathtub before Shirou was going to spend the night. He sincerely doubted he’d make it home in the morning without at least one more round. Could he be both personal assistant and lover? What if Gilgamesh didn’t want to keep the relationship secret? Could he bear being in the public eye like that? He tried to remember what the Uruk employee handbook said about employee fraternization, as if any company wouldn’t frown on an employee sleeping with their boss. Even if that boss was in charge of the company.  _ Especially _ if that boss was in charge of the company.

Abruptly Gilgamesh wrapped one arm across Shirou’s chest and squeezed him tight against his chest. “You're tense,” he said. “Relax.”

Shirou took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry,” he said. “Just thinking too much.”

“Let's go to bed,” Gilgamesh said.

They got out of the tub. Shirou was a bit surprised by the amount of gold shimmer that stayed on both of their skins, but Gilgamesh insisted they not rinse it off so they just troweled dry. The maid had put the bandages she’d bought carefully away in one of the bathroom cabinets. Shirou managed to find them after a bit of looking. He carefully re-wrapped Gilgamesh’s hand before they went back to the bedroom. Shirou bent to pick up his boxers from where they were pooled on the floor but Gilgamesh stopped him, taking hold of his wrist and tugging him to the bed.

Shirou didn't protest. He fell asleep quickly, in fact, curled up against Gilgamesh’s chest with the other man’s fingers running gently through his hair.


	6. Chapter 6

When he woke up, Gilgamesh wasn’t next to him. That did not particularly alarm him, although a sudden memory he had never actually texted Artoria the previous night did. He rolled out of bed and looked around for his jacket before remembering he’d left it in the living room. He yanked his boxers on before going out to get it, a little uncomfortable with the idea of wandering around his boss’s house naked even though he doubted any of his neighbors could possibly see in the windows. He found the jacket laying across the coffee table, which he guessed must have been where it had landed when he took it off.

He picked it up and extracted his phone from the inside pocket as he walked back to the bedroom, then cringed when he saw that it was already well after 10:00. There were a grand total of seventeen new messages: twelve from Artoria, four from Rin, and one from Archer.

Artoria’s ranged from  _ When do you think you’ll be getting home? _ to  _ If it's your boss’s fault you haven't texted me I'm going to murder him. _ to  _ Please just tell me you’re not dead. _ Rin’s mostly were chastising him for worrying Artoria, although the last one was,  _ Are you honest to god sleeping with your boss? _ Archer’s was one long, typo-ridden message informing him he and Rin had to talk Artoria down from calling the police, and that he didn't care who Shirou was sleeping with as long as Artoria didn't call Rin in a panic at 3 AM again over it.

There was a small sitting area in the bedroom with two chairs and a table between them, and he draped his jacket over the back of one of them and sat down. He debated whether he should call or text Artoria. He hadn’t actually told her he’d slept with Gilgamesh at all yet. Obviously he needed to let her know he was okay, but he wondered if the full conversation would be better to have in person. At the same time, though, he didn’t want to lie to her about why he hadn’t come home, and, honestly, at this point he had no real idea when he’d be back.

Before he could make up his mind, Gilgamesh came out of the bathroom. He was wearing a robe, but nothing else, and his hair was damp and disheveled. He looked incredibly pleased with himself. “Shirou,” he said, grandly, “We are taking a long weekend.”

“What?” Shirou nearly dropped his phone and had to scramble to get a grip on it. It was already Sunday, so the weekend was basically over. “But your schedule for tomorrow…”

“I cleared it.”

“That’s my job! And what about the factory?”

Gilgamesh regarded Shirou. “I am capable of managing my own time,” he said. “Everything with the factory was taken care of in New Mexico. The board agreed to discuss it during the regular meeting, which isn’t for two weeks. So where do you want to go?”

“Go?”

“If we’re going to have a long weekend, we may as well do something with it!” Gilgamesh said. He seemed to be getting annoyed at Shirou’s reaction to his news.

“Uh…”

“Be honest.”

Honest? “Well, honestly, I would like to call my roommate and let her know I’m not dead before anything else. And then... “

Gilgamesh interrupted. “Your roommate?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t I pay you enough that you could afford your own apartment?”

This conversation was going in a weird direction. “Um, you do, but I only just started working for you... “

“You weren’t making enough to live on your own before?”

“Yes, I was, but…”

“So why do you live with a roommate?”

“Because I like it?” Shirou said. “She’s a good friend, and we’ve been rooming together since college.”

Gilgamesh wrinkled his nose. “You’re living in the same place you were living in college?”

Why was that what he was annoyed about? Most people Shirou had dated had been more irritated Shirou’s roommate was a woman than anything else, which seemed stupid since Shirou would be considerably more likely to be sleeping with a male roommate. “Does it really matter?”

“No,” Gilgamesh said. “But it’s strange you wouldn’t try to upgrade. I could find you a better place.”

“Stop,” Shirou said. “I’m comfortable where I am right now. But, regardless, she was worried I never came home yesterday, and she got my brother involved, so I need to let her know I’m fine.”

“Does she know about us?”

This line of questioning was getting progressively worse, but Shirou felt his heart flip flop a bit at Gilgamesh’s use of “us.” He wasn’t sure what their relationship really even was at the moment. He wondered what Gilgamesh thought it was, but he still didn’t have the guts to ask. “She knows I’m working for you, obviously, but nothing else,” he said. “I haven’t talked to her since we, um…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Hooked up?

“Hm. Well, call her then, but think about what you want to do this weekend.”

Like he could do both those things at the same time! Shirou watched Gilgamesh as sat on the other chair, leaning his head on his hand. The other man’s expression was passive, but Shirou could recognize by now that he was closely observing him.

Shirou would much rather have had this conversation in private, but that was clearly not happening. He sighed and pressed the call button on at the bottom of Artoria’s message thread.

She picked up immediately. “Shirou?”

“Hey,” he said. “Uh, sorry about last night. I meant to text you, but…”

“Are you sleeping with Gilgamesh?” she asked.

That was more pointed than he’d been expecting. He supposed she had been talking to Rin. For all her jokes about it, Artoria didn’t normally jump to that kind of conclusion. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe I was so worried about you and you were having sex with your boss all night,” she said. She actually sounded relieved, but he thought she was probably angry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s fine. You have to give me the details though, when you get home. When will you be home?”

Shirou glanced over at Gilgamesh, whose expression hadn’t changed. “I’m not really sure,” he said. “And, um, we’re apparently going on a trip.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of last minute.”

“For work?”

“Um, no.”

“What?!”

“Look, can we talk about this more in person? I guess… at some point today I’ll be home, just for a little bit.”

“What if he’s only seduced you so he can--”

He cut her off. “Don’t even go there. We’ll talk later.”

“Fine. Have a nice trip.” She was definitely angry now.

“Can you also tell Rin I’m okay? I’ll see you.” He hung up and sighed. Gilgamesh was still watching him, and he was starting to feel self-conscious about it now. He hoped the volume on the phone hadn’t been loud enough for him to hear Artoria’s end of the conversation.

Before Gilgamesh could say anything to him, he got up and boldly slid his hands into his boss’s robe, pushing it slightly off his shoulders. Shirou was just wearing his underwear, and still slightly glittery from the previous night, but Gilgamesh looked like he must have taken a proper shower before Shirou had woken up. He’d re-wrapped his hand again, too, not as neatly as Shirou would have done it.

Gilgamesh took hold of one of his wrists as he leaned down for a kiss. “Where do you want to go?”

Shirou pushed lightly at the other man’s shoulders. “Right now,” he said, “I'm mostly inclined to go back to bed, but only if you're in it.”

Gilgamesh let Shirou pull him out of the chair and back to the bed, where he pushed him down and then climbed on top of him. Shirou untied his robe and pushed the fabric out of the way. “Scoot up the bed some,” he said, and he straddled Gilgamesh’s legs so he could comply, before laying down between them and spitting into his hand before wrapping it around his boss’s rapidly swelling cock.

He pumped him slowly until he was more than half hard, then took the head into his mouth. So far, Gilgamesh had forced him to be fairly passive, but he wanted to have his way with the man just as much as he wanted Gilgamesh to have his way with him.

Shirou knew he was very good at sucking cock. He'd had a considerable amount of practice over the years, and honestly he enjoyed doing it. At the moment he felt like his ass needed a break, anyway.

The groan Gilgamesh made when Shirou ran his tongue along the underside of his cock was encouraging. He wrapped a hand around it as he moved his mouth down to suck on Gilgamesh’s balls, then moved back up and tongued his slit for a moment before again wrapping his lips around the head.

One of Gilgamesh’s hands had made it into Shirou’s hair. Shirou let the other man push him down, swallowing to take Gilgamesh’s full length in. He hummed deep in his throat before pulling back and repeating the motion.

The only warning Gilgamesh gave him was his hand fisting in Shirou’s hair and trying to pull him off before he came. Shirou gagged reflexively, but he didn't back off until he'd swallowed probably half of it. He sat up up, come dribbling down his chin, before wiping it off with the back of his hand. He didn't think he'd let anyone come in his mouth since college.

Gilgamesh was staring at him, although his eyes were just slightly unfocused. He shifted his hips slightly beneath Shirou’s arms, and Shirou took that as a cue to crawl up the bed. This time he laid on top of Gilgamesh, enjoying the soft rise and fall of the other man’s chest, and the warmth of his skin, and ignoring his erection even though he could feel it pushing against his own stomach.

“I'm going to need another shower now,” Gilgamesh finally said.

“At least you don't have to wash your hair,” Shirou replied. He thought he would probably be purring right now if he were a cat. Even knowing Artoria was angry at him, he was very content at this immediate moment.

* * *

He dozed off a little, with Gilgamesh’s fingers gently tracing patterns on his back. As a result, it wasn’t until well after noon that they were finally ready to get back out of bed. Gilgamesh offered Shirou the first shower, so Shirou got up and went to take it. The idea of using Gilgamesh’s bath products seemed thrillingly illicit, but he couldn’t help feeling stupid over how excited it made him. He could just have easily gone into the guest room where the maid had put his bag and gotten his own things. He’d really lost his mind this time.

Naturally, alone in the shower, his mind once again drifted to analyzing this relationship. He really needed to work out what his own feelings actually were, aside from worrying about the impact on his career. He liked Gilgamesh Kish, certainly, but his first attraction had undeniably been nothing more than physical. The man was probably the sexiest person Shirou had ever met. He'd gotten to know his boss a little better in the past few weeks, but he still didn't know how much of what he'd seen was actually Gilgamesh’s persona or his genuine self. He was actually starting to doubt there was a difference, though, with Gilgamesh. He wasn't particularly deceptive. He was self-confident, intelligent, domineering, and creative. He embodied those qualities both behind closed doors and freely in the open.

And then, of course, he also had a nagging voice at the back of his mind questioning why Gilgamesh even liked him. That voice undermined every other conclusion he could possibly come to. The more he got to know the man, the more he appreciated his drive and his passion. He wanted to know him better.

For now, why Gilgamesh liked him was really the least concerning of the things Shirou had to think about. It was clear Gilgamesh did like him. He hadn’t made an explicit declaration of love, but no one asked, “Where have you been all my life” about someone they didn’t like.

Unfortunately, in a man like Gilgamesh’s case, there was also that pesky matter of his public image. Shirou had already compromised that once by doing something so stupid as falling into a swimming pool, so he was already worried about what it would do to Gilgamesh’s reputation if it came out he was sleeping with his personal assistant. Gilgamesh probably didn’t care about that, but Shirou cared very much.

By then Shirou was finished washing himself. He got out of the shower and helped himself to one of the large, fluffy towels that was on a shelf nearby. Gilgamesh came in, probably having noticed the shower was no longer running, and he looked Shirou over as his assistant toweled his hair dry. He looked disappointed, which Shirou didn’t understand. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Gilgamesh blinked. “What?”

“You look a little unhappy,” Shirou said.

“You washed all the shimmer off,” Gilgamesh said.

Shirou looked down at himself. “Well, I sweated most of it off, really,” he said. He hadn’t realized Gilgamesh had enjoyed the gold glitter so much.

“Shirou,” Gilgamesh said, his tone a little different.

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t want to go anywhere, we don’t have to.”

“Oh,” Shirou said. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to go somewhere. Gilgamesh’s proposal had just been very sudden, and very unexpected. “Why do you want to go somewhere?” he finally asked.

“I want to spend more time with you, away from work,” Gilgamesh said.

It was a simple answer, but somehow it nearly floored Shirou. “I… do, too. Want to spend time with you, I mean,” he said. He knew he sounded like a stammering idiot. “It’s not like I don’t want to go somewhere. I just don’t know where… I don’t really get out much, honestly.”

“If I choose the place, would you go?”

He answered right away, even though he really should have thought about it more. “Yes. Except one question… do I need to arrange the trip?”

Gilgamesh shook his head. “No, it’s a date. I can have someone else do that. How about a surprise?”

“As long as it isn’t anywhere cold,” Shirou said. A date? A trip for a date?

“It won’t be.”

Shirou got dressed while Gilgamesh showered. He felt a little gross putting the previous day’s underwear back on, but the only alternatives were going commando, which he was unwilling to do in a nice pair of trousers, or steal a pair of his boss’s underwear, and he didn’t feel like their relationship was anywhere close to a level where that would be okay. Putting on the same shirt and pants as the previous day was less strange. He didn't actually bother with a tie or a jacket, although he did fold his jacket up to put it in his bag before they left.

He sat in the chair he'd previously draped his jacket on and scrolled idly through the headlines on the news app on his phone, ignoring any having to do with himself or Gilgamesh, then opened Instagram, his one concession to social media, and scowled at the bedheaded, makeup-less selfie Rin had posted at 3AM with the caption “When your best friend has a late-night emergency.” He considered opening his browser to check her Twitter to see if she'd made any disparaging tweets about the situation, but before he got the chance Gilgamesh came out of the bathroom.

He was wearing a towel around his waist, which amused Shirou a little as they had just been naked in bed together for hours. His hair was still damp, which Shirou’s actually was as well. Shirou was used to seeing his boss’s slicked-back style, but he looked surprisingly youthful with it down. He hadn't really observed that earlier in the morning. His own hair tended toward sticking out in unruly clumps when he didn't style it, so he probably looked pretty stupid at the moment.

Gilgamesh didn't say anything to him as he pulled some black jeans and a shirt out of his closet. The jeans were a bit tighter than Shirou had been expecting. The shirt was actually fairly loose, with a deep v-neck that framed Gilgamesh’s collarbones in a way that made Shirou wish maybe they could go back to bed again. He sat down on the bed to pull on his motorcycle boots before going back into the bathroom and returning again with his earrings in. “Are you ready?” he asked Shirou when he came back.

Shirou was a little startled. “Don’t you have to call someone about the trip? And pack?”

“Alicia packed for me, and I already called. We should have plane tickets within a half hour.”

“The maid is already here?” Shirou asked. How the hell had he not seen the maid packing for Gilgamesh when his closet was in the bathroom?

“Is that a problem?” Gilgamesh said, an eyebrow raised. “Do you think I would have a maid who wasn’t discreet?”

Shirou shook his head. “No, fine. I’m just not used to that kind of thing. I’ve certainly never had a maid to worry about.” That was actually the first mention Gilgamesh had made about there being a need for discretion, which Shirou actually found somewhat reassuring. Although he did wonder when his boss had made the call. From the bathroom? Had he taken his phone in there with him? He changed the subject. “Do you want me to meet you back here after I pack? Or go straight to the airport?” Shirou asked.

“No need. I’ll go with you.”

Shirou’s brain had some difficulty processing that. Gilgamesh would go with him? To his apartment? To his apartment where Artoria was? When was the last time either of them had vacuumed? Had he washed the dishes the last time he’d cooked? What if he needed to use the bathroom and saw where Artoria had cracked the toilet seat and just patched it with duct tape? Actually, had the bathroom lightswitch been fixed yet?

“Shirou?”

His brain rebooted. “That’s not really necessary… I could just meet you at the airport,” he said.

“It doesn’t make any sense for you to do that. You don’t know what to pack yet. So I’ll come with you.”

There was no avoiding this now. He needed to pretend that Gilgamesh visiting his apartment didn’t horrify him beyond belief. “Do I need to call a car?” he asked, and then something else occurred to him. “Wait, plane tickets? We aren't taking the Vimana?”

“I prefer not to use the jet for purely personal trips unless it is necessary. It makes it more difficult for work to cut my vacations short. And Alicia called a car while you were in the shower. My luggage is already loaded.”

“You did all that while I was in the shower?” That meant Gilgamesh had actually decided their destination before he’d offered to do so, which annoyed Shirou a little. It did answer the question of when he’d made the phone call, though.

“Shirou, you were in the shower for an hour.”

“Was it that long?”

“It’s already after 2:00. Didn’t you notice? You’re usually on top of that kind of thing.”

Shirou hadn’t been paying any attention to what time it was, even though he’d been staring at his phone most of the time Gilgamesh had been showering. He put his shoes on, although he did ask to borrow a pair of socks. It was one thing to wear the previous day’s underwear and a completely different thing to wear the previous day’s socks.

It took nearly an hour to get from Gilgamesh’s house to Shirou’s apartment building. They were not actually that far apart, since Shirou lived in the upper part of Manhattan, but traffic in the city was never great, even on a Thursday afternoon. Gilgamesh instructed the driver to wait, although there was very little parking on the street, and then he turned to look appraisingly at the building. Shirou felt a little bad for the building under that look.

Shirou nodded at the landlord, Kirei, who was standing just outside the office when they walked in. Artoria did not like their landlord. She always said he was creepy, which Shirou thought was a little unfair. The man was, undoubtedly, creepy looking. He was large, both tall and broadly muscular, although he’d started to gain some extra weight around his waist since Shirou had been living there. He seemed to have a permanently disapproving expression, and the darkness of his eye color did not help make his face any less severe. On the other hand, the few interactions Shirou had actually had with him were nothing but professional, and he was always impeccably polite. And it was nice that he was also Japanese, although he barely looked it with his stature and coloring. Shirou suspected he was not full-blooded, but considering he had a brother with dark skin and pale hair, and he himself had red hair, he didn’t think he was in a position to speculate on anyone else’s genetics.

Shirou actually rarely interacted with the man. Artoria took care of any maintenance requests, and they paid their rent online. Still, it couldn’t hurt to be civil.

He was thankful the elevator was working again. The building was only twelve stories, but Shirou and Artoria’s apartment was on the tenth, so it was a long walk up the stairs. Granted, both Shirou and Artoria tended to take the stairs anyway. It was a free workout. Right now, though, they got into the elevator and Shirou hit the button for the floor.

Gilgamesh didn't look entirely out of place in the building, really. Most of the residents were younger, hipster types, attracted by the relatively cheap rent and not that discerning about the equivalent lack of amenities or services. Gilgamesh out of context seemed like he could belong to that crowd. Shirou was the one who really looked out of place, dressed in nice trousers with his shirt tucked in.

They got to the apartment door and Shirou suddenly realized he’d left his backpack in the car. He knocked. “I left my keys in the car,” he said.

“Does your roommate not have a job?” Gilgamesh asked.

“It’s Sunday,” Shirou pointed out, “and she works from home anyway.” The door swung open to reveal an annoyed Artoria.

She was wearing pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, as was typical when she was at home, and Shirou hoped she would forgive him for bringing Gilgamesh over unannounced. He should have texted her first, and he didn’t know why that had only just occurred to him.

“Sorry if you were recording,” he said, before she could say anything. In fact, she seemed like she was completely dumbfounded, staring up at Gilgamesh with an expression of total confusion. She had to stare up quite aways, since she was barely over five feet tall and he was taller than Shirou was.

Finally, her eyes moved from Gilgamesh, who was starting to look annoyed as she continued to block the doorway, to Shirou. “Can you, um, let us in?” he said.

“Ah!” She backed up, holding the door open to admit them both and shutting it behind them.

Shirou noted with pleasure that he had remembered to do the dishes, and in fact the kitchen was quite clean. The living room was a little messier, but that was purely due to Artoria’s recording setup, with her laptop and microphone wires running across the floor to the TV. She had some game paused on the screen, which meant at least he hadn’t interrupted her recording with someone else. She usually told him ahead of time when she was doing coordinated things, but he hadn’t really been keeping track.

Gilgamesh stood in the kitchen, looking around at the apartment. Shirou was pretty sure he was judging it, and pretty sure he was going to find it unworthy. He hadn’t looked out of place in the elevator, but he looked out of place now, too stiff for their very informal apartment, despite his casual dress. “Is this a one-bedroom?” he asked.

“It’s a no-bedroom,” Artoria said. She was also standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter on the opposite side from where Gilgamesh was standing. She didn’t look hostile, really, but she also wasn’t making a big effort to hide her displeasure over his presence.

“It’s a studio apartment, technically, although the layout’s really weird. We’ve got separate ‘bedrooms’ kind of cordoned off on the other side,” Shirou said. He’d never really been embarrassed about his living situation before. He’d brought previous boyfriends here but none of them had been rich businessmen who owned an actual house. He didn’t think he knew anyone who owned a house. He also didn’t normally bring anyone over when Artoria was actually home, just out of general consideration for her, which was to say it happened very rarely. He usually introduced anyone he was dating to her outside the apartment, at a bar or a pub.

“I see,” Gilgamesh said, although it was clear that he didn’t understand why Shirou preferred this apartment.

Shirou pushed past Artoria to get to the storage closet off the kitchen where his suitcase was. He had to move several older gaming consoles out of the way to get to it, which he would have complained about under normal circumstances, but he didn’t want Gilgamesh to think he and Artoria had any kind of dysfunctional relationship. “Feel free to sit down,” he told Gilgamesh, patting the back of the chair in the living room. It was the only piece of furniture anyone could sit on besides the couch, which Artoria was using most of between her laptop, the notebook she kept track of recording times on, and herself.

Gilgamesh sat down. He peered at Artoria’s setup and the screen and then looked back over his shoulder at her, still in the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I live here?” Artoria said, eyebrows raising.

“I mean, what were you doing, right here, in this room, with all of this equipment?” he said.

She came back into the living room and sat down on the couch again to pick up her laptop. “Recording,” she said. “Sorry, that’s obvious. I do let’s plays?”

Shirou left her to explain the concept to Gilgamesh and took the suitcase to his sleeping quarters to actually pack. He kept one ear on their conversation, but both of them were being civil, although it was clear from Gilgamesh’s tone that he really didn’t understand the point to what Artoria did for a living, and it was clear from Artoria’s tone that she didn’t really care about any of the equipment recommendations Gilgamesh was attempting to give her.

Getting along with Artoria was certainly not a prerequisite for Shirou to date someone, but it was a plus. She wasn’t a difficult person to get along with, although she was choosy when it came to actually calling people friends, and Shirou’s boyfriends had historically never passed that high bar.

Shirou looked at the assortment of things he'd put in his suitcase, unsure where to go from here. Gilgamesh hadn't given him any actual hints as to where they were going, so all he had to go on was it wasn't cold. Despite his physique, he didn't think Gilgamesh was an outdoorsy type, so they probably weren't going camping or anything like that. This trip was too short notice to be too extravagant. Florida, maybe? What was the weather like there in April?

Gilgamesh’s hand on his back made him jump. The other man had come up behind him and was leaning over him to see what he'd packed. “Shorts,” he said, “and swim trunks. Do you actually own any sandals?”

“Um, I don't.” Were they going someplace with a beach than? Hawaii? Or it could still be Florida. Maybe California? “I don't own any shorts, either, but I have some capris and some trousers I can roll up.”

“I guess that will have to do.”

Shirou dug through his wardrobe. He decided to just imagine he was going to a tropical island and pack for that. He didn't really want to get too much of a tan, but he could probably get a lightweight cover up wherever it was they were going. Also some sandals. He packed his gym sneakers. He'd wear a pair of loafers to the airport.

Gilgamesh sat down on Shirou’s bed and watched him pack until Shirou went into the bathroom to get his toiletries. When he came back, his boss was rummaging through his wardrobe drawer.

“Hey,” he said, “what are you doing?”

Gilgamesh looked up. “I can't believe you don't own any sandals.”

“Even if I did, they wouldn't be in there,” Shirou said. His shoes were quite obviously on a rack hanging next to the wardrobe.

“We’ll just buy you a pair when we get there. Are you almost finished?”

Shirou pointedly closed the drawer. “Yeah. All my chargers and my tablet are in my backpack, which is still in the car.” He put his toiletry bag in his suitcase and zipped it shut.

“Do you have your passport?”

“Do I need it?” He hadn't expected they'd be leaving the country.

“Yes.”

He pulled the small lockbox he kept his papers in out from under his bed and got the passport, stashing it in the outside pocket of his suitcase so he could put it in his backpack when they got to the car.

He leaned over the couch to give Artoria a quick hug on the way out. “Have a safe trip,” she said. “Where are you going, anyway? You didn't say.”

Shirou glanced at Gilgamesh, who was already over by the door. “It's a surprise,” he said.

Artoria scowled. “You'd better let me know when you get there. I can't believe you agreed to this. He's still your boss, right?”

“Hey, you're the one who told me I should just date him,” Shirou said.

“Yeah, but I wasn't being serious. And this is really extravagant for a date, anyway. When will you be back?”

“Um…”

“You don’t even know that?” She sighed. “Shirou, I hope you’re not making a mistake.” 

If he were being honest with himself, Shirou couldn't really believe he'd agreed to it either. He just couldn't really say no to Gilgamesh. He expected a lot of people had that problem. “I don’t think I am. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“The last time you went on a trip with him you nearly drowned. And that was the day before yesterday.” She sighed again. “I guess he did save you then, though. Just let me know the details, okay?”

“I will.”

* * *

The airport was crowded. It was Sunday evening, after all. Gilgamesh led the way purposefully to the correct counter for them to check their bags, then through security. They only had half an hour before the plane boarded, but their tickets apparently gave them access to a VIP lounge.

Shirou hadn't even known such a thing existed. There were only a few other people there, mostly looking tired. No one paid any attention to Gilgamesh, who Shirou had convinced once again to wear a hat and sunglasses and had only caused a minor stir at the security checkpoint when he had to take them off.

Gilgamesh sank into one of the comfortable-looking chairs in the lounge while Shirou eyed the selection of refreshments on display, a little dubious that they were free. He'd never flown first class before, and this was already extravagant before they'd even gotten on the plane.

“Come here,” Gilgamesh said.

Shirou looked up at him, a little startled by his tone. He sounded irritated, but Shirou couldn't imagine why.

He sat down in the chair next to his boss, who turned so he could face Shirou. “We should have taken the Vimana,” he said.

“Does it really make a difference?” Shirou asked. “Isn't first class pretty comfortable?”

“It's hard to carry a conversation,” Gilgamesh said, although the way he raised his eyebrows made it obvious a conversation wasn't really what he meant.

He wondered if Gilgamesh was just like this because it was a new relationship and therefore novel, or if he was always insatiable. “How long is our flight?” he asked.

“The trip is seven hours, but we have a stop in Miami.”

Gilgamesh had managed to keep the tickets hidden from Shirou up to this point, but he wouldn't be able to keep their destination a secret much longer. It would say where they were going at the gate, after all. Shirou wondered if that was another reason his boss wished they'd taken the private jet.

He very tentatively leaned his leg against Gilgamesh’s. Gilgamesh favored him with a small smile and stretched his arm across the back of Shirou’s chair. This was certainly going to be the longest they'd gone without making out since they’d gotten back from the hospital Friday.

They sat in a comfortable silence until it got closer to boarding time. For all that he’d reassured Artoria it was fine, Shirou couldn't stop thinking about how potentially career-destroying going on a vacation with his boss he’d started sleeping with mere days before was.

He tried looking at it from a different perspective. Would he have agreed to this trip from anyone else he'd started sleeping with less than a week before? He wanted to say no, but that wasn't true. If the guy was hot enough and the sex good enough, Shirou would have agreed. And both of those were certainly true in Gilgamesh’s case.

They really, really needed to talk about this relationship. As much as Shirou could justify it with the thought that plenty of high-powered executives slept with their assistants or secretaries, that didn't make it any more ethical.

What he really wanted to know was whether or not Gilgamesh was having similar thoughts. He glanced over at the man, who was scowling deeply as they walked to their gate. He kept putting a hand briefly on Shirou’s arm and then pulling it away again. Shirou had seen tabloid photos of Gilgamesh with girlfriends and he suddenly remembered that Gilgamesh often had his hand on their arms. He felt his neck and ears getting warm as he came to that realization, and had to will himself to stop focusing on Gilgamesh’s hand.

Shirou had been to the international departures terminal a few times, but not this particular area. There weren't many people around, but Shirou kept glancing at all the signs, wondering which one they were going to finally stop at.

Belize. The one they stopped at was Belize, and Shirou actually had to wrack his brain to remember where that was. It sounded tropical. An island, maybe? But he didn't think that was right. Somewhere on the Caribbean, anyway. Was it part of Mexico? Did Gilgamesh speak Spanish?

“Have you been to Belize?” Gilgamesh asked, probably noticing Shirou’s vacant expression as he stared at the flight information. The plane was at the gate, but they weren't boarding yet. There were thirty or so other people either sitting or standing around.

“The only place I've been to outside of the country is Japan,” Shirou said. He didn't add that he'd barely been anywhere inside of the country, either. At least he'd been brushing up on his US geography so he could actually have some idea where all the states Uruk had facilities in were.

“I used to go there a lot,” Gilgamesh said. “Summer trips. I haven't been since college, so no paparazzi types will be expecting us there.”

Shirou liked how Gilgamesh had said “us” just then. He doubted he was really on any paparazzi’s radar, but if it came out he and his boss were doing this, that would change fast. He'd seen how quickly a non-celebrity could become tabloid-worthy in the presence of someone who was a celebrity, even if that notoriety rarely lasted long outside of the connection.

They didn't bother to sit down. Shirou was a little fidgety, wondering if any of the passengers who were presently holding Uruk devices were going to take notice of Gilgamesh himself standing amongst them, but everyone was focused on their own business.

At least, they were until the gate attendant announced boarding would begin in ten minutes. Someone looked up at that announcement and caught sight of Gilgamesh, who had removed his sunglasses so he could stare at his own phone. To Shirou’s thinly-veiled horror, the man came over to them.

“Hello!” he said, too loud in the relatively quiet gate area.

Gilgamesh looked up from his phone and scowled at the man for a second before apparently recognizing him, although his expression didn't soften much. “Kishinami,” he said, a little coldly.

“Long time no see,” the man said, offering a hand.

Gilgamesh shook it, but pulled his hand away quickly. “It has been a while.”

“I didn't think you still went to our old haunts,” the man said. “Not since you got so big in business. Haven't you bought a private island yet?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Gilgamesh said.

“Should I take that as buying an island is ridiculous, or of course you've already bought one?” the man asked.

Gilgamesh didn't reply. He was getting visibly irritated with the man. Shirou wondered who he was. Apparently someone who knew Gilgamesh when he was still visiting Belize regularly. A classmate from college?

The memory of Gilgamesh saying he'd only slept with one other man surfaced. What if Gilgamesh was just attracted to Japanese men? Was this guy his ex?

The gate attendant broke in with an announcement that they were now boarding first class and Gilgamesh brushed by the other man with a curt, “Excuse me.”

The man took a step back, looking a little surprised by Gilgamesh’s brush off. His eyes settled on Shirou, who gave him a small nod. “Sorry,” he said, although he had nothing to apologize for, and then he hurried after his boss.

Shirou really wanted to ask who the guy was, but he was worried asking might irritate Gilgamesh even more, and once they were on the plane and seated he realized his boss had been serious about the difficulty of a conversation.

The seat configurations were clearly designed with the solo traveler in mind, set up as individual booths with dividers between them. Gilgamesh immediately slid open one part of the divider that was between them, but the way the seats were positioned Shirou still couldn't really see Gilgamesh’s face.

Until they took off he didn't need to sit properly, so he perched on the edge of the seat and leaned forward so he could actually see more than Gilgamesh's feet. The other man still looked like he was in a bad mood, but he gave Shirou a small smile anyway.

Shirou deliberated internally about whether or not he should ask. The question might not be welcome, but what if they ran into him again at their destination? Although the guy had barely noticed Shirou when he'd approached Gilgamesh anyway.

He decided he wasn't going to ask. If Gilgamesh offered an explanation he would be interested, but it wasn't worth irritating the man further over. “I'm probably gonna sleep,” he said. “You were right about conversations.”

“Part of first class is paying to not have to speak to your seat mates,” Gilgamesh said. Shirou wondered if he'd ever actually flown any other way besides first class or the Vimana.

“At least the seats are comfortable,” Shirou said.

Gilgamesh reached through the gap and put his hand on Shirou’s arm. “Sleep now, because you won't get much sleep tonight,” he said, his voice low.

Shirou’s face instantly flushed. “Um, yes,” he said, and Gilgamesh grinned at him before letting him go and settling back into his own seat.

* * *

It took Shirou an hour or so after they were in the air to actually go to sleep. He'd discovered first class had free wifi and had decided to do a little research on Belize so he had some idea of where they were headed, until Gilgamesh had realized what he was doing and had reached through the gap in the partition and taken Shirou’s phone. “Sleep,” he said.

Shirou wasn't sure if he should be offended at his boss just pulling his phone out of his hand, but all Gilgamesh did was lock the phone and hand it back. He didn't even look at the screen. Shirou sighed and put his phone into his backpack as Gilgamesh watched. “What about you?”

“As soon as I finish my wine,” he said, holding up the glass. “Would you like a sip?”

“No, thanks,” Shirou said. He settled back into his seat, found the control to make it recline, and dozed off almost immediately despite the thoughts about Gilgamesh crowding his brain.

He woke up briefly when they landed in Miami, but they had no need to get off the plane, and when he checked, Gilgamesh was still sound asleep. He sent Artoria a message to let her know their actual destination, then realized Gilgamesh still hadn’t told him exactly when they’d be back. He’d have to tell her that later.

_Belize? Where is that?_ Artoria replied.

_Central America_ , he typed. _On the Caribbean._

_Don’t get eaten by a shark_ , she said.

He stared at that message. He wasn’t sure if she was angry with him for this impromptu trip, or even if she was still angry at him for having disappeared the previous night. It annoyed him a little. He was an adult, and it wasn’t like he owed his roommate justification for his own personal relationships. They’d been living together long enough that he thought of her more as family than a friend, but still.

That thought made him realize he hadn’t talked to his father in a couple of weeks, which meant he was probably due for a call from him. He really did not want to hear his father’s opinion on his going on an international date with his boss, so he sent a quick email. Saying he’d suddenly had to go on an overseas trip with his boss wasn’t exactly a lie, and last time he talked to his father Kiritsugu had just started dating someone so he was probably preoccupied enough with that he wouldn’t press for more details.

He didn’t bother telling Archer or Rin. Rin would find out from Artoria, more than likely, and she’d tell Archer, who would definitely disapprove and would definitely tell Shirou just how much he disapproved at some point. That could certainly wait.

By the time he was done with all of that, they were taking off again. He fell asleep right away this time.

* * *

He was, as usual, disoriented when he woke up. The pilot was making some kind of announcement, but Shirou’s head was too muddled to understand it. He suspected it was that they were beginning their descent based on the pressure in his ears.

He wondered if Gilgamesh was awake and leaned forward to see. His boss was sound asleep, his head tilted back and mouth hanging open. Shirou settled in his seat again and took his phone back out.

He messaged Artoria to tell her they were about to land in Belize. He wasn't sure if they were still in the same time zone or not. His phone said it was two in the morning, so whether they were or not she was likely asleep. Hopefully wherever they were staying had wifi. He turned the data on his phone off preemptively, because he definitely didn’t need that surprise on his phone bill later.

Gilgamesh didn’t actually wake up until the wheels hit the ground, at which point Shirou heard a surprised noise from him and felt a little guilty he hadn’t woken the man up earlier. If they’d been on the Vimana he would have. Communication of any kind was impossible while they were landing. Taxiing to the gate didn’t take very long, though, and they were off the plane quickly.

“Are we taking a cab?” Shirou asked.

“Helicopter,” Gilgamesh said. He was walking purposefully without bothering to check the signs, so Shirou just followed.

The word Gilgamesh had just said didn’t sink in until they’d walked another whole minute. “A helicopter?” he said, stopping.

Gilgamesh also stopped and looked back at Shirou. “Yes, a charter helicopter. They’ll take our luggage directly there. It’s not far to the landing pad.”

“I’ve never been on a helicopter,” Shirou said, embarrassed at his own surprise. He continued walking, trying to stay in stride with Gilgamesh this time.

“It’s the easiest way to get there. Going by car would take too long.”

“Are we going to someplace you’ve been before?”

“I’ve stayed there a few times,” he said. “With a group.”

“A group from school? You said you came here on summer trips, right?”

“Yes. Here’s the landing pad,” Gilgamesh pushed open a door, letting a warm, humid breeze in. There were a few helicopters parked a good distance from the building.

Shirou wanted to ask if the man from before had been on any of those trips, but he didn’t. Instead, he just followed Gilgamesh to one of the helicopters. There were two men there in the process of loading their luggage into it, but one stopped to help Shirou climb in. Gilgamesh did not need any assistance for that.

Once they were seated, Gilgamesh handed Shirou a headset and showed him how to strap in. Shirou had at least seen enough movies to know why he’d need a headset, although he wasn’t entirely prepared for the actual volume of the rotor as they took off. It didn’t feel anything like flying in a plane, either. He wasn’t sure he enjoyed it.

They’d landed in Belize City, which was well-lit even in the early morning darkness, but once they got away from the city the ground below them was mostly just a sea of black. Somehow it made Shirou sleepy again, and he eyed the helicopter pilot for a moment before leaning against Gilgamesh and closing his eyes. Gilgamesh put an arm around his waist, letting it settle lightly on his hip.


	7. Chapter 7

The noise and strangeness of the helicopter didn't really allow him to fall into anything beyond a doze, so he had no problem unstrapping his safety belt and taking the headset off when they landed. There was actually a large, black car waiting for them on the tarmac, and the driver opened the door to usher them in before helping the pilot get the luggage out of the helicopter. The car wasn't quite a limo, but it was roomy enough to have probably once housed another row of seats in the back before they'd been removed to make room for a small selection of snacks and drinks and a flat-screen television.

The windows were tinted dark enough that Shirou could only vaguely see out of them into the darkness, and the driver was hidden behind an equally dark glass partition. That amount of privacy was clearly enough for Gilgamesh, who reached over and cupped Shirou’s face with his hand in order to maneuver him into a kiss.

“The place we’re staying is called Turtle Inn,” he said after releasing Shirou. “It's right on the water. We’ll have plenty of privacy there.”

Shirou shivered a little at the mention of privacy. He'd slept enough on the plane that, despite his drowsiness in the helicopter, he was wide awake now, and he couldn’t help but anticipate whatever Gilgamesh had planned for him.

* * *

What Shirou was actually expecting was a nice hotel suite with some kind of private balcony. This was… considerably more than that. He couldn’t imagine how much Gilgamesh was spending on this trip, with everything at less than a day’s notice and now this. It was an entire house, built right on the beach, surrounded on all sides but the side facing the water by tall hedges and fences. An entire house, and two extra guest houses across a small courtyard. A courtyard with a private pool. The idea of so much extravagance was likely going to weigh on his conscience later, but, like many things that had happened over the past few days, he was going to worry about that another time.

Shirou was currently standing in the living room area, which was open to the outside. The breeze from the sea was humid, but cool, and he could hear the ocean. The courtyard was mostly lit by what looked like gas lamps, which cast everything outside in a warm, ethereal light.

Inside, the place was sleek and modern. It seemed far too new to have been somewhere Gilgamesh had been as a student, but it did seem like this was only one part of a larger resort. He had probably just not stayed here, specifically, in this house.

Gilgamesh, having supervised the driver in taking their bags to the actual bedroom upstairs, came up behind Shirou and wrapped his arms around the smaller man before kissing the back of his neck. “See? Private,” he said. “We have this place to ourselves. No one will come here except the hotel staff to clean and bring food, and they’re not going to be interested in us.” He started tugging Shirou’s shirt out of his pants. “Why do you always have to wear undershirts?” he asked, once he’d finally gotten his hand on skin.

“It’s barbaric not to,” Shirou said, even as he sighed at Gilgamesh’s touch and leaned back into him.

“I’ll show you barbaric,” Gilgamesh replied, before biting down on the back of Shirou’s neck and pinching his nipple at the same time.

Shirou groaned, clinging to Gilgamesh’s arms around him. “You’re going to tear my shirt,” he said, because he had to say it before he stopped caring about the shirt.

Gilgamesh withdrew his hands. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

* * *

The bedroom, unlike the downstairs, was closed off from the outside, although two walls were almost entirely glass. From there, he could see that there were other small cottages on the beach around them, although the view was obscured by palm trees planted close to the house. There were curtains on the windows, but Gilgamesh seemed unconcerned with closing them. Instead, he turned the light in the room off. It would be dawn soon, but for now the silvery light of the moon and stars, and the light from the gas lamps reflecting in, lit the room well enough for Shirou to see that Gilgamesh had already unpacked a box of condoms and bottle of lube. They were sitting in the middle of the bed.

Shirou had been happy to follow Gilgamesh’s lead so far, so he let the other man take charge this time, too. Gilgamesh undressed him almost brusquely, taking care with the buttons on Shirou’s shirt, but not lingering on newly exposed skin. Once Shirou was naked, he took his own clothes off in a rush. He pulled Shirou against himself, grinding their hips together while they were both still standing, and kissing him with both his hands wrapped tightly around Shirou’s upper arms.

Somehow, Shirou got the sense that Gilgamesh was nervous about something. He couldn’t imagine what, but the other man was tenser than the situation called for, to the extent that his grip on Shirou’s arms was starting to hurt. It didn’t seem like desperation or frustration, and his kisses were certainly as confident as ever, but there was enough of a sense that something was off for Shirou to finally push him away. Gilgamesh released his arms immediately, and Shirou rubbed at one of them. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Gilgamesh took a step back. “Sorry,” he said.

Shirou sat down on the edge of the bed, off center, and Gilgamesh took the hint and sat beside him. His dick, which had been eager up until a moment ago, was already starting to go soft. It was strange to see Gilgamesh not confident about something, and Shirou immediately started to fear that there was something major wrong, that he was about to find out coming on this trip was a horrible mistake.

“Would you fuck me?” Gilgamesh asked.

Shirou barely smothered a laugh. Was that it?

It wasn’t something he would have even guessed, that Gilgamesh Kish, who had acted in a purely dominant role since Shirou had met him, even before they had slept together, would want to be on the receiving end of a dick, but it was hardly a relationship-breaking request. It had been a long, long time since Shirou had done anything other than get fucked, but he wasn’t opposed to it. He enjoyed receiving more than giving, definitely, but they were both pleasurable in their own ways, and he’d been with guys in the past who liked to switch it up.

Shirou leaned in and kissed Gilgamesh. “I can do that, if that’s what you want,” he said.

Gilgamesh seemed uncharacteristically relieved. Enough that he pushed Shirou down against the bed and climbed on top of him. Shirou smiled at that, because it didn’t surprise him that Gilgamesh might prefer to be on top when getting fucked. He’d already shown a penchant for having Shirou ride his dick, even if Shirou always seemed to end up flat on his back eventually.

As Gilgamesh grabbed the lube from the middle of the bed, just to the left of Shirou’s head, Shirou reached up and pinched one of his nipples before sliding his hand behind Gilgamesh’s neck to pull him down. He kissed Gilgamesh’s collarbone, which happened to be the most accessible thing, as he extricated the bottle of lube from the other man’s hand. “If you want me to fuck you, I’m going to do the whole process,” Shirou said. He’d guessed that Gilgamesh had planned to prepare himself, and the brief frown that crossed his face made it clear that guess was correct, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned down and got to work sucking a bruise into Shirou’s skin at the base of his throat.

Shirou tried to ignore that. He coated his fingers in lube and reached down with both hands. He curled one around Gilgamesh’s dick, eliciting a groan and a pause in Gilgamesh’s efforts, and circled a single, slick finger of his other hand around his boss’s hole.

Gilgamesh pushed back against him. He was clearly eager, so Shirou didn’t bother with any further teasing, working his finger in with an ease that mostly came from his own masturbation technique.

Maybe Gilgamesh was less eager and more impatient. As much as Shirou wanted revenge for the way Gilgamesh slowly and surely got him ready, he couldn't help but respond to the way Gilgamesh kept encouraging him to pick up the pace, until Gilgamesh reached back to pull Shirou’s hand away and grabbed a condom. He dodged Shirou’s attempt to take the condom from him, and rolled it onto Shirou’s cock, while Shirou groped around on the bed beside him for the lube.

His boss surprised him again by lining himself up and sinking down onto Shirou right away, and Shirou immediately abandoned his attempt to find the bottle to grab Gilgamesh’s hips with a groan. Gilgamesh didn't move right away. His expression was one of pure pleasure, although it had to be uncomfortable.

Shirou rocked his hips, and Gilgamesh moaned before raising himself up and slamming back down. He leaned forward and kissed Shirou as he started fucking himself on Shirou’s cock. Shirou wondered if he should try to assert some control over the situation, but he was pinned down by Gilgamesh’s body, and he couldn't bring himself to release his hold on the other man’s hips.

It didn't take Shirou long to come. The pressure and the friction were both too good, especially combined with how purely sexy Gilgamesh looked as he rode Shirou. He didn't stop until Shirou dug his fingers in and pushed Gilgamesh’s hips away. Gilgamesh stayed where he was even after letting Shirou slide out of him, using his own hand to finish himself off and coming onto Shirou’s stomach and chest.

He leaned down and kissed the smaller man again, his softening cock dragging across Shirou’s stomach as he did. Then he rolled off Shirou and laid on his back on the bed.

“Is this gonna be a regular thing?” Shirou asked. He wanted to get up and clean himself off, but he had no idea which of the three identical doors in the room went to the bathroom. He couldn't even remember which one they'd come in, nor did he recall them shutting it.

“I love fucking you,” Gilgamesh said, “too much to give it up.”

Shirou laughed. “Hear, hear,” he said. “I don't want you to give it up either.”

“Just every once in a while.”

Long-term timeframes were still something Shirou wasn't entirely prepared to think about. “Is there a bath in this place?”

“I'm sure there is,” Gilgamesh said. Shirou glanced over at him. He looked sated and drowsy, which is how Shirou felt as well, but Shirou at least needed to wipe his front off. He hadn't even taken the condom off yet.

He grudgingly stood, tossing the condom in a small wastebasket that was next to the bed before opening the door that seemed most likely to lead to the bathroom.

The room on the other side had only a sink and a toilet, but there was another door. When he opened that, he was pleasantly surprised to see a spacious, Japanese-style bathroom, including an enormous tub.

He came back into the bedroom to dig his toiletry bag out of his suitcase. “I'm going to take a bath,” he said.

Gilgamesh didn't reply, and on closer inspection Shirou saw that he'd fallen asleep. He decided to just go wash off on his own.

The bath was the perfect size to really relax in. Shirou was strongly of the opinion that Japanese people’s bathing culture was the best, and he daydreamed sometimes about importing Japanese bath fixtures if he ever decided to buy a house. He was so comfortable that he completely lost track of time, until he noticed through the small window he'd opened to let the steam from the bath vent that the sun was coming up.

Before he could get out of the tub, Gilgamesh came in. He closed the door behind him and considered the bathroom’s setup. Shirou wondered if he'd ever used anything like it before.

Whether he had or not, he didn't need Shirou to explain it to him. He sat down on the stool in the middle of the room and started rinsing himself off as Shirou washed. He hadn't brought his own soap or shampoo in so he helped himself to Shirou’s, which Shirou somehow found more scandalous than when he’d used Gilgamesh’s bath products.

It didn't really occur to Shirou that Gilgamesh was goading Shirou on until he started cleaning his ass, very leisurely, with his back to the tub and Shirou. At that point he was making too much of a show out of it for it to not be on purpose. Shirou was rock hard again, but didn't dare get out of the tub while Gilgamesh was still cleaning himself.

By the time Gilgamesh had rinsed off, Shirou had a hand loosely wrapped around himself, rubbing very slowly up and down. He let go when Gilgamesh climbed into the tub and allowed himself to be pulled into the other man’s lap. His boss slid his hands around Shirou’s hips and down his ass, spreading his cheeks with one hand and teasing his hole with the other, his movements slow but deliberate.

Shirou kissed Gilgamesh’s eyebrow, and the other man tilted his head so he could kiss his lips instead. He put his tongue in Shirou’s mouth at the same time as he slipped the tip of a single finger inside him.

With no further lubricant than the bathwater, Gilgamesh didn't try to put another finger in, and of course they didn't have any condoms in the bathroom with them. Instead, Gilgamesh just curled his finger and wrapped his hand around Shirou’s dick. He slowly, slowly jacked Shirou off as he fingered him, and Shirou let his head loll back as he turned to putty in Gilgamesh’s hands.

He came with little urgency, and then relaxed into the water again, although in the back of his mind he couldn't not think about the bathwater being dirty now. Gilgamesh wasn't fully hard but Shirou didn't make a move to touch him and Gilgamesh didn't seem to expect anything. He also relaxed, leaning on the opposite side of the tub so that Shirou’s legs were bracketed by his own.

“Are we going to bed after this?” Shirou asked. “To actually sleep, I mean.”

“Are you tired? It's dawn, you know,” Gilgamesh pointed out.

“I am exhausted, and isn't this a vacation? Unless you made other plans for us…”

“I don't really have any plans for outside the bedroom,” Gilgamesh admitted.

The idea of having flown to a completely different country just to have a vacation where they never left the bedroom was insane to Shirou. “I've never been here before,” he pointed out. “I’d like to at least see some things. You haven’t actually told me how long we’re staying, either.”

Gilgamesh rolled his head back and sighed. “We’re leaving Thursday morning. Fine, let’s sleep and then we can do something else. But tonight I have a surprise for you.”

“Isn’t this whole trip a surprise?”

“A surprise within a surprise,” Gilgamesh said with a grand gesture.

“I’ll look forward to it, then,” Shirou said, and stood up to get out of the tub.

The other man followed him out, reaching over Shirou’s head to grab a towel from the shelf just outside the bathroom door and draping it over the smaller man’s head. Shirou patted himself dry before ducking back out to the bedroom to find Gilgamesh’s toiletry bag. He rebandaged the other man’s hand again, and then jumped when Gilgamesh gripped his shoulders from behind while he was putting the bandages back away. He let himself be guided to sit on the small bench in front of the vanity area next to the sink.

Gilgamesh opened a drawer and took out a hairdryer, plugged it in, and set to work drying Shirou’s hair. It felt domestic in a way that made Shirou slightly nervous, although he relaxed beneath Gilgamesh’s soft touch and the warmth of the hairdryer itself. He was drowsier than ever. He leaned back against his boss. “Don’t fall asleep on me,” Gilgamesh said. “I’m almost done.”

He crawled into bed shortly after that. Gilgamesh followed him, although he opened the windows first, letting an ocean-scented cross-breeze fill the room. If this was a mistake, it was the best one Shirou had ever made.

* * *

He woke up before Gilgamesh, and got out of bed without waking the other man. The view of the beach from the bedroom was enticing, and Shirou could already feel a sense of restlessness creeping in. He got dressed quietly and remembered Gilgamesh’s disparaging comments about his lack of sandals. He guessed they’d end up shopping at some point during the day, but if he was only going to be walking on the beach he could just go barefoot. Gilgamesh didn’t so much as stir the entire time he was getting dressed. Shirou found a pad of paper on top of the nightstand and wrote where he was going. He put it on the pillow he’d been using, thinking it would be more obvious there, and then he took his phone and left.

It was late morning, and it was warm and humid but not in the uncomfortable, stagnating way that New York was. With the breeze still coming in off the ocean, it was pleasant. The water was a beautiful blue, stretching out into the equally blue sky. Shirou hadn’t really ever seen anything like it.

It appeared that the stretch of beach behind where they were staying belonged to the resort, as it was sparsely populated but dotted with umbrellas that had the resort’s logo. He walked straight from the stone path behind the house across the sand to the water. He had little experience with the ocean. He’d been to the shore in New Jersey a few times with friends, but when he’d been in Japan he’d been inland, in the mountains, and hadn’t ever made it to the ocean. He knew Artoria was fond of it. She would probably enjoy this place.

The water was warm when it pushed in over Shirou’s feet. It dragged the sand from beneath his toes and left behind a small crab which scurried back towards the water’s edge as soon as it had oriented itself. There was a scattering of seashells in the white sand. He wondered if there were actually turtles around. Did turtles live on beaches? He knew sea turtles at least hatched in the sand.

“Hey!”

He turned at the sound of the voice, although it certainly wasn’t Gilgamesh’s voice so he didn’t think the person was actually calling him. It was the man from the airport, though, jogging toward him across the sand. “You were with Kish, ah, I mean Gilgamesh at the airport, weren’t you?”

Now he wished he had asked Gilgamesh who this guy was. Gilgamesh had been rude to him, but Shirou wasn’t going to follow that example, especially with no clue as to why Gilgamesh had reacted the way he had. “Yes,” he said, and held out his hand. “I’m Shirou Emiya.”

“Hakuno Kishinami,” the other man said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm and warm. “I guess Gilgamesh didn’t tell you who I am?”

“No, he didn’t,” Shirou confirmed.

“That’s not really surprising. I was never actually one of his friends, although we tended to run with the same crowd. I went to college with him. Our dorm rooms were across the hall from each other, and we shared a lot of classes since we were all computer science majors there. My roommate was someone he was friends with before starting college.”

“Oh,” Shirou said. He had no idea how to actually define his relationship with Gilgamesh at the moment, so he didn’t add anything to his own introduction.

Hakuno either didn’t notice his reticence or didn’t care. “He and his friends used to come down here for summers, so freshman year I ended up tagging along. I still like to come here for a week or two every year, but I didn’t think Gilgamesh would ever be back.”

Shirou felt like he was being tested. He didn’t know much about Gilgamesh’s pre-Uruk days. No one really did. He didn’t talk about his school or college days in interviews, and reporters didn’t write about it at all outside of that. Someone was certainly engineering that mystery, whether it was Gilgamesh himself or not, and it felt wrong to pry into it like this.

It turned out he didn’t have to explain their relationship to this guy. He smiled and said, “And I really didn’t think he’d be back with someone like you in tow.”

It was clear from his tone and expression that he had assumed Shirou was sleeping with Gilgamesh, which brought again the memory of what Gilgamesh had said that night at his house. He’d only ever slept with one other man. Was it this other man? Was it possible that Shirou really had, by pure coincidence, met Gilgamesh’s one and only ex-boyfriend?

“What do you mean?” Shirou asked, even though he knew what he meant. It really was unfair to take this backdoor route into finding out Gilgamesh’s past, but there was only so much temptation he could resist. His inability to resist temptation was why he was sleeping with his boss in the first place.

“I guess he hasn’t told you about Enkidu?”

Shirou decided he really didn’t like this man, and he had the suspicion this man really didn’t like Gilgamesh, either. Whatever he was taunting Shirou with right now was something Shirou probably shouldn’t be prying into. He should be hearing it from Gilgamesh or not hearing it at all. He needed to end this conversation before he really couldn’t get out of it. “No,” he said, as coldly as he could manage. “It was nice meeting you, but I should be getting back.”

Unbelievably, as he started to turn back toward the house, Hakuno caught his wrist to keep him from leaving. “Hey, wait!”

Shirou looked back at him and shook his hand free. “What?”

“Look, I just want to let you know a relationship with that man isn’t going to work long-term. It’s—” he stopped, suddenly, his eyes widening at something over Shirou’s shoulder. Shirou turned to see Gilgamesh coming towards them, clearly furious. “Actually, on second thought, I need to get back too.” He turned abruptly and began walking quickly back up the beach towards the rest of the resort.

Shirou waited until Gilgamesh had reached him. “Good morning,” he said, although Gilgamesh was glaring after the departing Hakuno like he wished he could physically hurt him with a look alone.

He turned to face Shirou, his expression softening, but only slightly. “What did he say to you?” he demanded.

“He said he lived across the hall from you in college, and he tried to give me relationship advice.”

“If I had known that man was still coming here I would have chosen a different resort,” Gilgamesh said. “Let’s go back in. There’s lunch.” He started to walk back.

“What happened between you and him?” Shirou asked, although he hadn’t meant to. “Sorry,” he followed immediately. “It’s none of my business.”

Gilgamesh stopped and regarded him. “He’s an opportunistic shithole,” he said. “Who views emotional turmoil as currency to be bargained with.”

That was not what Shirou had expected. “I’ll make sure I don’t talk to him again.”

“I should have warned you about him when I saw him at the airport,” Gilgamesh said. “I couldn’t imagine he’d be coming here too. There’s a thousand resorts in Belize. Just because this was the one we used to go to… He’ll probably approach you again if he sees you alone, so don’t go anywhere without me.”

Shirou frowned at that. “I think I can avoid him,” he said.

Gilgamesh shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “Just try not to talk to him. He’s not going to have anything good to say about me. Let me know if he does try to harass you.” He grinned, almost viciously. “I broke his arm during our sophomore year, and I’ll gladly do it again.”

“Please don’t,” Shirou said, concerned by this new, bloodthirsty side to his boss.

Gilgamesh didn’t bring the topic up again as they ate lunch, which was delicious, and then went out to do some sightseeing in the small town near the resort. He did buy Shirou sandals, as he’d promised, and insisted Shirou change out of his loafers right away. Shirou found a pair of hand-carved wooden hair sticks for Artoria. Apparently most shops took American money, although Shirou hadn’t brought a lot of cash.

They headed back to the hotel later in the evening, and they ate dinner, which was an ostentatious array of seafood dishes. After, they both lounged outside next to the pool, both with drinks that had been brought by a hotel staff member. Gilgamesh was drinking wine, as usual, but he’d ordered Shirou some kind of fruity drink that probably had far more alcohol in it than it tasted like it did.

It was that alcohol content that prompted Shirou into bringing up what Hakuno Kishinami had said to him again. “Who is Enkidu?” he asked.

Gilgamesh froze. Even Shirou’s booze-warmed brain realized he shouldn’t have asked, or at least not asked now, while they were relaxing. “Did Kishinami say that name?”

“Yeah,” Shirou confirmed. “Don’t worry about it, though. Forget I asked.”

“He was my first love,” Gilgamesh said, before Shirou could even finish his attempt to defer the question. “He was the person who made me who I am today.”

“Oh,” Shirou said. He still didn’t have enough information to put together the pieces. He wondered if something Hakuno had done had caused Gilgamesh and this Enkidu to break up. That seemed too simple, somehow, especially taking into account the sadness in Gilgamesh’s expression.

“He got sick in our sophomore year and never recovered. He died just after he finally dropped out of school at the end of the fall semester.”

Shirou stared at Gilgamesh, the complicated breakups he'd been imagining instantly clearing from his head. Sophomore year was barely an adult. What could he say to that?

The other man sighed and slid down lower in his lounge chair, as if the memory had rendered him boneless. “I don't want to go into that now,” he said. “Enkidu died, and Hakuno Kishinami was there for me, up until he was only there so he could use my connections to get in good with the professors whose classes he was failing. So I broke his arm and haven't spoken to him since. I'm sure he hates me and thinks he can use you to get back at me now. It's probably a golden opportunity for him, since he hasn't seen me since then.”

Shirou was silent. He couldn't get past the fact that Gilgamesh’s first love had died. He tried to imagine what it would have felt like if that had happened to him. He'd been in love many times, and none of those relationships had ever worked out, but they'd all come to a slow end. A mutual realization that it wasn't a sustainable long-term relationship, for reasons that were usually clear and obvious to both of them. Never something so abrupt as death.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice Gilgamesh getting up until the other man was leaning over him. He kissed him, a soft, shallow kiss at first, then leaned in again for a deeper one when Shirou grabbed hold of the light jacket he was wearing and held him in place.

They kissed like that for a while, but Gilgamesh finally straightened and Shirou let him. The taller man stretched his back, which was probably sore from the hunched over position he'd been in. He looked at Shirou, who knew his lips were slightly swollen and that he was breathing heavily. His expression shifted to a smolder, and he reached down to pull Shirou to his feet. “Let's go to bed,” he said.

* * *

He actually led Shirou by the hand into the house and up the stairs. Once they were in the bedroom, he left Shirou standing by the foot of the bed, closed the curtains and went to get something out of his suitcase. Shirou recalled he had said he had a surprise, and he was in fact surprised by the things Gilgamesh took out of his suitcase.

A leather blindfold, with long, trailing ribbons to tie it on, and a pair of padded handcuffs.

“Did you have those on the plane?” he asked.

Gilgamesh regarded him with a flat look. “That wasn’t the reaction you were supposed to have. And no, they weren’t in my carry on. You just watched me take them out of the other bag.”

“Did the maid pack them?”

Gilgamesh came over to Shirou and put his hands on his shoulders, still holding the handcuffs and the blindfold. “Shirou.”

“Sorry,” Shirou said. He’d never engaged in even this kind of low-level bondage. He’d used toys, certainly, and had toys used on him, but he’d never been blindfolded during sex and he’d never been handcuffed, ever, during sex or otherwise. “Let me see the handcuffs,” he said.

Gilgamesh handed them over, and Shirou looked at them. They were softer than he was expecting, leather padded with a low-pile velvet. They buckled closed instead of latching, clearly designed for pleasure and not any other kind of restraint, but the foot-long chain between the two cuffs was real metal, and sturdily attached. He looked up at Gilgamesh. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” he said.

That made Gilgamesh take a deep breath, which he let out slowly. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

“I do,” Shirou said, not hesitating.

Gilgamesh pushed him gently backwards into the bed. “Lay down. With your head on the pillow,” he said. While they’d been out, someone had come in and changed the linens. Shirou almost suggested they pull the comforter down first, so as not to get that dirty, but the look in Gilgamesh’s eyes made him stay silent and just do as he was told.

He was still dressed, but Gilgamesh didn’t seem to care about that as he climbed onto the bed after Shirou and straddled his hips. “You can tell me to stop at any point, and I will,” he said.

“Aren’t we supposed to have a safe word?” Shirou asked.

Gilgamesh shook his head. “I think ‘stop’ will work fine. This isn’t an S&M scene, just some fun,” he said. “I’m not planning to make you scream for mercy.”

That sent a shiver down Shirou’s spine despite himself. “Okay,” he said.

“Raise your arms up.”

Shirou, again, did as he was told, and he held his breath a little as Gilgamesh wrapped the first cuff around one of his wrists. “Is this too snug?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” Shirou said.

The headboard was a metal lattice, and Gilgamesh pushed the other cuff through an opening and buckled it around Shirou’s other wrist, again checking with Shirou about the fit. Shirou tested the arrangement as soon as Gilgamesh let go. He certainly wasn’t going to be able to use his hands to participate in whatever Gilgamesh had planned.

It definitely sent a thrill through him. He bit his lip as Gilgamesh picked the blindfold up again. “It probably would have been easier to put this on first,” his boss observed. “Lift your head a bit.”

Shirou did his best, his stomach muscles straining to hold his head up as Gilgamesh covered his eyes and tied the ribbons. He hadn’t inspected the blindfold, but he could feel that it was lined with the same soft velvet as the cuffs. It was broad enough that it didn’t really let any light in at all.

“You can put your head down,” Gilgamesh said, and Shirou did. He felt the knot of the ribbon at the back of his head, and then he felt Gilgamesh’s hands on either side of his face. The blond leaned in to kiss him, and Shirou immediately tried to reach for him and was stopped by the cuffs.

He felt Gilgamesh move away from him, climbing off the bed completely, and he turned his head to try to hear what the other man was doing. There was only the soft rustle of clothing. Was he undressing? He hadn’t worn a belt that day, but… there was the tell-tale sound of a zipper being opened.

Shirou was still fully dressed, though, and there was no way Gilgamesh could remove the shirt he was wearing completely, because of the cuffs, but Shirou was glad he had actually eschewed his normal undershirt for once.

There was a weight on the bed, but then it vanished again. Shirou couldn't tell where Gilgamesh was; the sounds of the waves and the breeze outside effectively masked any footstep on the bamboo flooring, and now that the other man was, as Shirou assumed, naked, there wasn't even the sound of fabric to give him away.

Gilgamesh touched his feet. He'd taken his sandals off as soon as they'd gone inside. They were somewhere downstairs. He wondered what expression his boss was making as he slid his hands from Shirou’s ankles down his feet. He dug his fingers in a little, but it felt good, like a massage. It also tickled, but only a little. Not more than Shirou could bear.

The hands moved up his shins, gently kneading his calf muscles just beneath the edge of his rolled-up capris. Then on top of the fabric, sliding up the outside of his thighs and then, with little warning, trailing over and sliding back down the inside.

Shirou moaned quietly at that, and Gilgamesh slid his hands up again, squeezing Shirou’s inner thighs as he moved his fingers along them. He stopped tantalizingly close to Shirou’s crotch, then moved up to above his belt. He didn't take the time to run his hands over Shirou’s clothed torso, instead immediately starting to unbutton his shirt from the bottom. His fingers brushed tantalizingly against Shirou’s skin, and Shirou’s breath hitched when he reached the top and pushed his shirt open. Gilgamesh’s hands were flat on his chest, but his thumbs brushed over his nipples, then pressed down on them.

He felt warm breath on his skin and he tensed before Gilgamesh’s tongue ran up along his breastbone. He mouthed at Shirou’s collarbones and kissed the hollow of his throat before planting a row of kisses up his neck. Shirou couldn’t help tilting his head back and Gilgamesh took the opportunity to suck a bruise into the skin of his throat.

Then he kissed Shirou on the mouth, as his hands massaged the smaller man’s chest. He ground their hips together and Shirou strained against the cuffs and whined into Gilgamesh’s mouth.

Gilgamesh pulled away and slid his hands back down Shirou’s torso to his waist. He undid Shirou’s belt with an agonizing slowness, pressing his wrist down on his straining erection.

Shirou bucked his hips and Gilgamesh abandoned his work to put a hand on Shirou’s stomach. “Stay still,” he said, the first thing he'd said since they'd started.

It was hard not to move. Gilgamesh finally finished opening his pants and pulled them down, but he ignored Shirou’s cock once it was freed. His pants had been uncomfortably tight by then, so there was some relief just in having the constricting fabric gone, but Shirou certainly wanted more at this point.

Instead, he felt Gilgamesh moving up the bed, walking on his knees, straddling Shirou’s body the whole length of the bed. He didn't know what to expect next, but then Gilgamesh’s hand cupped his jaw. His boss used his thumb to coax Shirou’s mouth open before pressing in with his cock.

Shirou jerked his hands again. “Still,” Gilgamesh repeated. He pushed further into Shirou’s mouth, and the younger man did his best to keep his jaw slack. He tongued the head, then the underside, as Gilgamesh slowly fucked his mouth.

He tried to pull away eventually, and Gilgamesh withdrew and stroked his hair. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Shirou nodded. “I just want… Can you fuck me?” he asked. That was what he really wanted. He felt like every sensation was heightened right now, and he wanted to feel it all.

“Of course,” Gilgamesh said. “That was my plan all along.”

He climbed off the bed and Shirou whined at the loss of his warmth. He tried holding his breath to hear what Gilgamesh was doing, but he couldn't tell. The room was silent save for the crashing of the waves outside and Shirou’s own labored breathing.

He started to get desperate. Had Gilgamesh left? He rubbed his face against the pillow in an attempt to dislodge the blindfold but it was too well made. He tried to find the buckle on one of the cuffs to free himself, but his fingers had gone slightly numb from the position of his arms and he couldn't get a grip.

Then, all at once, there were hands on his thighs and a warm, soft tongue on his cock. He moaned, both in pleasure and relief, as Gilgamesh’s now-slick finger found his hole. The relief of Gilgamesh’s touch was too much and he came without warning.

Gilgamesh didn't remove his finger, still slowly working it in, but he pulled his mouth away. “S-sorry,” Shirou said, even as he tried to shift away from Gilgamesh’s probing finger, which had found his prostrate and was curling against it.

His boss kissed his hip. “I'm not going to stop just because you came early,” he said, and Shirou shuddered.

Despite that, he was sure the other man would actually stop if he asked. Gilgamesh wasn't going to fuck him if he really didn't want it. But he did want it, despite his softening dick and the overstimulation. He still wanted it. “Don't stop,” he said, breathless.

“You're saying that while you're trying to squirm away,” Gilgamesh said, kissing Shirou’s hip again, and then sliding his tongue along the sweat-slicked skin. “I've got your seed all over my face, you know.”

Shirou swallowed hard. “Sorry,” he said again, although he didn't really think Gilgamesh was after an apology. He'd put a second finger in, but Shirou was already impatient with the feeling of those fingers stretching him open. “Please,” he said.

“Please what? Forgive you?”

“Fuck me,” Shirou said, the movement of Gilgamesh’s fingers turning it into a whine. “Please, fuck me now.”

He expected Gilgamesh to continue to use his fingers, because that was what he normally would do, but the other man actually pulled them out and immediately replaced them with the warm, pulsing head of his cock, already slicked up, wearing a condom, and ready to push in.

Shirou arched up and moaned at the burning stretch of it. He wasn't quite at the point where he was used to Gilgamesh’s cock. His body still protested the intrusion. Shirou didn't care. He wanted it.

He felt a hand on his own dick. “You're already getting hard again,” Gilgamesh said. His other hand was splayed flat on Shirou’s hip to brace him as he continued to push in.

It felt like an eternity before Gilgamesh was fully seated inside Shirou, and another eternity before he started to move, starting with small, short thrusts that made Shirou feel like he was being split in half. The hand on his cock started moving, uncomfortable at first because Shirou was very much overstimulated, but gentle enough that he was soon pushing his own hips up as Gilgamesh fucked him. He came again before Gilgamesh did, but the other man quickly followed, and pulled out and withdrew. 

Shirou didn't move, panting and sweaty on the bed. He'd unconsciously clenched his fists at some point and he was fairly certain he'd broken the skin of his palms with his own fingernails. It was only a short moment before Gilgamesh was  unfastening the cuffs, kissing Shirou’s palms and massaging feeling back into his hands before removing the blindfold as well.

He leaned down to kiss Shirou as soon as the blindfold was off. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I don't think I can walk,” Shirou said. He was shaky and overwhelmed.

Gilgamesh smiled down at him, then helped him sit up. Despite the padding on the cuffs, Shirou saw his wrists were red, and he had in fact broken the skin in a few places on his palms. Gilgamesh kissed those places before handing Shirou a glass of water from the nightstand.

He had to hold it for Shirou to drink out of. When Shirou had enough, Gilgamesh lifted him up off the bed and carried him to the bathroom.

* * *

Shirou woke up the next morning pleasantly sore and unable to remember what day of the week it was. Gilgamesh wasn't in the bed, so he stretched, got up, and dug a pair of underwear and one of the few t-shirts he owned out of his suitcase and went to find him.

He was swimming in the pool. He hadn't done any swimming since his hand injury, Shirou realized, and wondered if he really should be. Not that he hadn't been using that hand plenty last night… Shirou actually blushed a little at the memory.

He sat down on one of the lounge chairs by the pool, although he did feel self-conscious doing it with no pants on. He also wished he'd brought his phone down with him, but watching Gilgamesh swim back and forth across the long, narrow pool wasn't too bad.

There was already food on the bar in the kitchen for breakfast; he'd seen that as he'd walked out here. It hadn't looked like Gilgamesh had eaten anything yet. He'd need to change the dressing on his hand again first.

Gilgamesh got out of the pool and noticed Shirou for the first time. He'd apparently been fully focused on his swimming. He smiled at the smaller man as he toweled himself off, then came over and leaned down to give him a kiss.

Shirou obliged, although Gilgamesh’s mouth tasted like chlorine. “You can see I kept my distance from the edge of the pool,” Shirou said.

Gilgamesh sat down on the side of the lounge chair, putting his non-injured hand on Shirou’s thigh and idly running his fingers along the skin. “Good,” he said.

“Do you want to change the bandage again before we have breakfast?”

Gilgamesh looked at his other hand. “I should take a quick shower,” he said.

“I'll come back up with you so I can get dressed,” Shirou said.

They ended up showering together, and not quickly. Breakfast was pastries and fruit, and it could wait a little while longer.

* * *

When they finally made it downstairs, fully dressed and Gilgamesh’s hand re-bandaged, Shirou reflected on how he hadn't had so much sex in such a short period since he'd been in college. He peeled a clementine as he considered this. It was nice that he and Gilgamesh were so sexually compatible, but it didn't mean their relationship was any more sustainable. They still had a working relationship: that fact was impossible to avoid. It wasn't ethical. And they were going home soon.

He had to broach the subject. Maybe it wasn't the best time, but they wouldn't have the easy privacy for this conversation again once they'd left. He didn't want to talk about it in the airport or on the plane, and he certainly didn't want to have this discussion in Gilgamesh’s office. “What are we going to do when we get back?” he asked, and tried not to hold his breath for the answer.

Gilgamesh looked at him as if trying to confirm something. “I hadn't thought that far,” he said, finally. “I dragged you all the way here instead.”

Was that the reason for this impromptu vacation? Gilgamesh just didn't want to deal with the reality of having seduced his employee? “I've been avoiding it, too,” Shirou said. “But we need to talk about it.”

“I know,” Gilgamesh said. He sighed and leaned his head on his hand. “Just keep working for me.”

“Is that really a good idea?” It wasn't like Shirou wanted to quit. He liked his work, and he obviously liked Gilgamesh, but it was probably only a matter of time before scandal broke if they kept on as they were. Shirou wasn't sure he wanted to deal with that in the capacity of being an employee in a relationship with his boss. An employee in a relationship with his former boss wasn't that much better, but at least it showed an understanding that the relationship hadn't always been appropriate.

“I'm not sure I care,” Gilgamesh said. “I meant what I said about your skills as an assistant. I'm not sorry I slept with you, but I don't want to lose those skills either.” He scowled, suddenly frustrated. “Plenty of people in my position have affairs with their staff. It's not exactly abnormal.”

“I'm not sure I could take it if it came out,” Shirou said. “And we haven't exactly been subtle.” He gestured at the guest house around him. “And society won't be as generous when it's two men.”

“Are you saying you don't want a relationship or that you don't want a job?”

Shirou held up his hands placatingly. “I'm not saying either. I don't know what I want. I want you, obviously. I like working for you, but I also like sleeping with you. One or the other isn't sustainable.”

Gilgamesh considered this. “I don't think there's any going back on this relationship,” he said. “But I'm not prepared to make a decision now.”

“I'm not, either.” Shirou took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think we need some ground rules for when we’re out in public, and for when we’re at the office.”

“You're going to tell me I'm not allowed to fuck you over my desk,” Gilgamesh said.

“I think I know you well enough by now to know you're going to do whatever you can get away with,” Shirou said. He didn't really want to take being fucked over a desk off the table, honestly.

“So what rules are you proposing?” Gilgamesh asked. His copper eyes were fixed on Shirou, his breakfast going ignored on his plate.

Shirou swallowed. “Nothing in public. No touching, nothing.”

“I'm recalling the one who decided to rub his leg up against mine in the airport,” Gilgamesh said, and Shirou flushed.

“I'll follow my own rules, too,” Shirou said.

“Fine. Nothing in public. Is that all?”

“No… We can't do this again,” Shirou said, gesturing again at the guest house. “At least not so unplanned. Honestly I wouldn't have normally said yes to this in the first place.”

“But you couldn't say no to me?” Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow.

“Basically,” Shirou said, unable to meet Gilgamesh’s eyes. Even looking at the granite surface of the bar he could see Gilgamesh’s predatory smile out of the corner of his eye. He looked back up. “Do you have anything to contribute?”

“I agree to your conditions,” Gilgamesh said. “My only rule is that you allow me to spoil you.”

What did that mean, exactly? Shirou wasn't sure. He was afraid to ask. “As long as it's not in public,” he said.

Gilgamesh smiled again. “It won't be.”

Shirou did harbor some doubts that Gilgamesh would be as careful as Shirou really wanted, but he was going to give it a chance.

He was also pretty sure Artoria was going to kill him for agreeing to any of this. She'd encouraged him, but only teasingly. He assumed she had been surprised when she found out the truth, considering how worried she had been when he hadn't come home after New Mexico. She wouldn't have worried if it had been a normal date he'd been on… In the past, she'd always seemed more concerned when he hadn't gone home with a normal date. She also knew Shirou well enough to think he wouldn't do this sort of thing in the first place.

His brother wasn't going to approve, either, and it was already too late to keep it a secret from him and Rin. As long as he didn't tell their father, though, it'd be fine. His brother’s disapproval was frequent, and didn't bother him that much. Their father’s would bother him considerably more.

Abruptly, he wondered if Gilgamesh even had anyone he would trust enough to tell. He knew Artoria already knew, since he'd been there when Shirou had told her on the phone, and he hadn't protested or brought it up just now. He remembered what Gilgamesh had told him about Enkidu, and how Hakuno Kishinami had betrayed him, and suspected the answer to that was no. It was a little sad to consider.

“Do you want to go back out today?” Gilgamesh asked.

“I think I want to walk on the beach a bit, at least.”

“They do glass-bottom boat tours,” Gilgamesh said.

* * *

They went on the boat tour, Gilgamesh buying all the tickets so it would be private, which Shirou did not think was entirely necessary. He'd agreed to be spoiled, though, so he didn't comment. The tour itself was pleasant. Shirou hadn't been on many boats, so he was pleased to find he didn't get at all seasick. He found out Gilgamesh had a yacht, which surprised him for some reason. He was rich enough to have a private plane, so a yacht made sense, but Shirou always thought of yachts as being a thing rich people used to party and Gilgamesh was not really the partying type.

Their last day in Belize was pleasant and lazy, and they did end up spending the majority of it in the bedroom. A little on the side of the pool, and a little in front of the enormous TV in the lounge area next to the kitchen, but mostly the bedroom.

And then it was another helicopter ride back to the airport, another long flight back to the states, and what should have been another car ride back to Shirou’s apartment.


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn't a car ride back to Shirou’s apartment, because all hell broke loose as soon as they got outside the airport. There was a crowd of photographers and camera people in the pickup area, and a flock of policemen trying to get them under control. Shirou had no idea what was happening, but Gilgamesh took charge and pushed Shirou ahead of him toward the waiting car.

They got inside, Gilgamesh looking like he wanted to murder someone, and Shirou still baffled by the situation. He couldn’t imagine why there would be so many photographers waiting for them, but he was thankful for the dark-tinted windows.

“We’re going back to my house,” Gilgamesh said, tapping on the glass that separated them from the driver. He gave the instruction when it rolled down, then looked over at Shirou. “Put your seatbelt on. It may be a rough ride if they decide to follow us.”

Shirou put his seatbelt on. “What is going on?” he asked.

Gilgamesh scowled even deeper. “I think it'll be clear if you turn your phone on.”

Still confused, Shirou did. He was flooded with texts, mostly from Artoria and Rin, but others from people he rarely spoke to. He also had about thirty missed calls, several of those also from Artoria. Some of the calls and texts were from numbers he didn't recognize.

He opened his message thread with Artoria and scrolled quickly through. The first few were just questions about Belize, and he felt guilty for not having even checked if their guest house had wifi, but after that they grew increasingly alarmed. Asking if he’d left Belize yet, asking if he'd seen the news, asking when he was getting back to New York and offering to come meet him at the airport. None of them actually mentioned what had her so alarmed.

He turned to look at Gilgamesh, who was also on his phone. When his boss saw him looking, he held it up to show Shirou the screen.

There was a photo, clearly taken the first full day they'd been there, of Gilgamesh bent over him at the side of the pool. They were obviously kissing, Shirou’s hands fisted in Gilgamesh’s jacket, Gilgamesh supporting himself with one hand and cupping Shirou’s cheek with the other.

He pulled the phone out of Gilgamesh’s hand and scrolled down. There was a paragraph of explanation underneath, and he read it with a rapidly increasing feeling of foreboding in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

**Millionaire Playboy Trying Something New?**

_ The young leader of everyone’s favorite technology corporation seems to have updated his tastes. After a long dry spell, he was spotted in Belize engaging in some heavy petting with… a man? An anonymous source identifies Gilgamesh’s new partner as Spiro Emiya, 26, none other than the very same personal assistant Uruk’s founder saved from drowning a few days ago. Sorry, ladies, it looks like Gilgamesh is batting for the other team now! _

* * *

He mutely pushed the phone back into Gilgamesh’s hand and stared at the partition between them and the driver. This was not supposed to happen. Their careful talk from the previous day replayed in his head, as if any of that mattered now. They hadn’t even been in public; they’d been in a private courtyard. Whoever took those photos must have been peeking over the fence with a telephoto lens.

“They got your name wrong,” Gilgamesh said.

Shirou looked over at him. He was holding his phone so tightly that Shirou thought he might actually crush it. His expression must have been awful, because Gilgamesh’s scowl softened and he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault,” Shirou said. He had willingly gone along on the trip, and he’d been the one who’d tugged Gilgamesh down into that kiss. He supposed he should be thankful the cameraman hadn’t caught them the next day, when he’d been sucking Gilgamesh’s cock on the very same lounge chair, although that thought made him consider that it was possible the cameraman  _ had _ caught them doing that, too.

Something occurred to him. “You think it was Hakuno Kishinami, don’t you?” he said.

“An anonymous source who happened to see us together at that resort, of all places? Yes, I think it was Kishinami.”

The anger in his voice alarmed Shirou. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing. I can’t prove it. This worthless website isn’t going to give up their source so easily. I could sue them for slander but what would be the point? The only thing there that’s not true is your name’s wrong, and they’ll have that corrected in no time.”

“Is this going to hurt Uruk?” Shirou asked.

Gilgamesh shook his head. “Uruk has weathered worse. I’m sure there will be a moral panic, because people are stupid, but homophobia is unpopular these days. There’ll be some conspiracy theories, I’m sure, but the worst that’s going to come out of this is a lot of people badmouthing you.”

“Oh,” Shirou said. That made sense. Gilgamesh was a celebrity, whereas he was an unknown. There were going to be a lot of rumors about him, and none of them were going to be kind. Maybe he could cope with that. He had enough savings that he could easily lie low for a while, since he certainly wasn’t going to be able to keep working for Uruk now.

He was startled when Gilgamesh put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll protect you,” he said, very seriously. Shirou almost wanted to laugh, but Gilgamesh was being too sincere for that. His phone pinged again with another new message, though, and the other man withdrew his hand. “You probably want to talk to your roommate.”

“Do you mind?” Shirou asked.

“No,” Gilgamesh said, although he didn’t look very happy about it. “If they find out where you live they’ll show up there. You may want to tell her to stay somewhere else for a few days.”

Shirou nodded and called Artoria.

“Shirou! Are you alright? Where are you?” she asked as soon as she picked up.

“I’m in a car, heading to Gilgamesh’s house. We just got back.”

“Why aren’t you coming here?” She sounded alarmed at that.

“Gilgamesh says they’ll probably be able to figure out my address. You might want to clear out for a couple of days, too, if you can. I don’t want you to get harassed for my sake.”

“I guess… I could probably stay with Rin tonight, although I think you’re being too paranoid. I'm out of town after that until Monday night, remember? Anyway, won’t they show up at Gilgamesh’s house first? I’m sure they already know where he lives.”

“Sorry, I forgot that was this weekend!” Shirou said. One of the celebrities who normally hired her was doing an event and wanted around the clock protection. “I’m sure they will, but he’s got a fence around the property, and it’s a little more secure. Plus, there’s no neighbors to worry about bothering. Don’t worry, I’ll be home as soon as I can, and I’ll keep you updated.”

“Your brother is pretty pissed off,” Artoria said.

“I assumed he would be. I haven’t read any messages other than yours, but I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

“You should text him instead of calling,” Artoria said, “He’s really mad.”

“Okay. Be careful,” Shirou said. “I’ll talk to you later, probably tomorrow, and let you know what’s going on.”

“You be careful, too. Bye.”

When he hung up, he realized Gilgamesh was also on the phone. He heard enough to be able to tell he was talking to a lawyer before pulling his attention away.

He opened his messages again and skimmed the thread from Archer, and the one from Rin. Rin started out congratulating Shirou on his score, and got increasingly concerned about him. Archer’s started with,  _ Shirou I can’t believe you would do this, _ and went downhill from there.

There was no way Archer wasn’t going to call him as soon as he sent a text, but he texted anyway.  _ Thanks for your concern _ .

Sure enough, the phone rang immediately. He picked it up. “Don’t yell,” he said, before Archer could say anything. “I’m in a car with Gilgamesh and he’s on the phone too.”

Archer’s tone was measured. “I can’t believe you, Shirou. You have better judgement than this. What were you thinking?”

Shirou sighed. “You know I’m an adult and can make my own decisions, right? Neither of us was expecting this.”

“You went on a tropical vacation with  _ your boss _ , who you are  _ sleeping with _ , and I’m supposed to accept your  _ adult decisions _ ?” Archer said.

“I’m not going to argue with you about this. I wanted you to know that I’m fine. I’m going to stay with Gilgamesh tonight, until this blows over–”

“You think it’s just going to blow over if you stay at his house? He’s not threatening you, is he?”

“Archer, everything I did was because I wanted to do it. Okay?”

“I don’t know if I find it reassuring that you were really making such monumentally terrible decisions uninfluenced,” Archer said, flatly.

“I’m going to stay with Gilgamesh until it blows over. Gilgamesh suggested Artoria shouldn’t stay at our apartment in case any paparazzi or reporters find out my address. She’ll probably call Rin, but will you let her stay with you? It'll only be one night, because she has a job this weekend anyway.”

“Did she know what you were doing?”

“Archer. Will you let her stay?”

“Of course I will, Shirou. But god, I still can’t believe you let any of this happen.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” Shirou hung up, knowing Archer would be even more annoyed that he’d cut the conversation short. He wasn’t inclined to care at the moment.

Gilgamesh was still on the phone. Shirou skimmed through some of his other messages, answered the few from old friends who were actually concerned about his safety rather than demanding details. He ignored all the messages from unknown numbers, too, deleting them without even reading them.

He did text Rin, knowing she was probably the only person who could calm Archer down.  _ Sorry for all the trouble _ , he typed.

_ Don’t worry about it, _ she texted back after a minute.  _ Stay safe, I’ll take care of Artoria and Archer _ .

_ I don’t even deserve your friendship _ , he replied.

_ No one does. _ She followed that with a winking emoji.

By now they were out of the city and getting closer to Gilgamesh’s house. Gilgamesh finished his phone call and dropped his phone on the seat next to him. “There’s probably going to be a crowd outside the gate,” he said. “I’ve called the police on paparazzi enough times that no one’s going to risk coming into the yard, though. I would suggest you put your jacket over your head when we get out. Even if they’re not in the yard, they’ll have their telephoto lenses. I should have a hedge planted.”

“Okay,” Shirou said.

“I need to go into the office tomorrow but I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Shirou frowned at that. He understood why Gilgamesh wouldn’t want him to go to work, but he didn’t like the idea of being cooped up in Gilgamesh’s house. Even if the house was enormous. He didn’t protest, though. There wasn’t much of a point.

Gilgamesh was right about the crowd of photographers outside the gate. The driver had to get out and yell at them to be able to pull the car in. But he was also right that none of them were willing to come onto the property. Shirou felt stupid throwing his jacket over his head before getting out of the car, but he did it anyway, and Gilgamesh rushed him into the house. He left the driver to get their luggage out and bring that in.

“Is the maid here today?” Shirou asked, stopping to pull the jacket off his head.

“She’ll be here tomorrow. Not today.”

“What about the cook? What were you planning for dinner tonight?” They'd had lunch on the plane, but it was already five o’clock.

“I don't know. A shake or something.”

Shirou tried not to recoil in horror. Surely if Gilgamesh had a cook, he had food for the cook to prepare. “I'm going to the kitchen,” he said. “Your cavalier attitude about food is the worst thing about you.”

* * *

It turned out Gilgamesh’s kitchen was very well-stocked with dishes, pots, and cooking utensils, but poorly stocked with actual food. Most of what was in the refrigerator was protein shakes, the pantry only had the barest minimum of staples, and the freezer was basically empty. There was, however, a rice cooker stashed in one of the cabinets. And there was some spinach and fresh broccoli in the vegetable drawer, and two chicken breasts among the few things in the freezer. He would make do. He needed the practical, normal tasks of cooking to calm his nerves right now.

Gilgamesh sat down at the kitchen table and watched Shirou the entire time he was working. “Do you like cooking?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Shirou said. “My dad is useless at it, so as soon as we were both old enough my brother and I did all the cooking.”

He didn't ask about Shirou’s mother, which Shirou appreciated. He had already mentioned being adopted, but he knew it was rare for a single parent to adopt two young boys. Kiritsugu had many girlfriends but he'd never been married at all, and yet he'd adopted two kids, not even just one. Shirou had long suspected he’d done something underhanded to manage it.

All the dishes in Gilgamesh’s cabinets appeared to be fine china. Shirou felt a little awkward putting his thrown-together meal on such expensive-looking plates, but he did it anyway and brought them over to the table. He looked pointedly at Gilgamesh, who looked blankly back at him. “Drinks?” he said.

“Drinks?” Gilgamesh repeated, uncomprehendingly.

“I'll just have water,” Shirou said.

“Oh.” Gilgamesh got up and opened three different cabinets before finding the glasses. He filled them both with water and ice and brought them back to the table while Shirou found silverware.

“No wine?” Shirou asked.

“Not in the mood,” Gilgamesh said.

They started eating in silence, although Gilgamesh complemented the meal. Despite having cooked it, Shirou didn't actually have much of an appetite. He pushed the rice around on his plate and said, “I guess everything we talked about in Belize is out the window now.”

Gilgamesh put his fork down. “I'll understand if you don't want to do this anymore.”

“I don't mean it like that,” Shirou said. “I just mean… I can't keep working for you, obviously.”

“I don't want you to quit,” Gilgamesh said. “I told you why already.”

“What about Uruk’s fraternization policy?”

“Uruk’s fraternization policy wouldn't cover this. It's to protect employees from being treated unfairly. You're my assistant, not a normal employee.”

“I'm still on the company payroll. Do you think HR and the board is going to be okay with that?” Shirou asked. “I'm not sure how okay I am with it, either.” He was sure a lot of people had already come to the conclusion Shirou had slept his way into the job. He hadn't been there long enough to have established close relationships with a lot of his coworkers, so he wouldn't have many defenders among them. It wasn't going to be an easy work environment. “I don't want you to lose respect because of me.”

“I don't care about that,” Gilgamesh said.

“I do, though.”

Gilgamesh made a frustrated noise. “We’ll talk about this later. After this weekend.”

“Am I going to be able to go home this weekend?” Shirou asked. It suddenly hit him that it was already Thursday.

“Did you have plans?” Gilgamesh asked.

Shirou pushed his plate aside and rested his forehead on the table. “I'm supposed to be meeting my dad’s new girlfriend on Sunday,” he said. “I just remembered.”

“I'll just take you to that.”

“I don't have enough clothes to last me that long, either.”

“What will probably happen,” Gilgamesh said, carefully, “is some celebrity will make a misstep this weekend and the gossip will change focus.”

“And then I can go home? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m not going to let you leave if you’re going to be walking into a lion’s den,” Gilgamesh said, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair as if he’d had the last say and there wasn’t any further argument to be had.

Shirou sighed. “I get what you're saying, but I don't want to just be cooped up in your house all weekend either. I haven't really been home in a week and a half now.”

Gilgamesh regarded him for a long moment, long enough that Shirou was actually afraid he was angry. And maybe he was, but he eventually shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “Stay here tonight and tomorrow. I'll take you home tomorrow night.”

Shirou almost suggested he just take public transportation home, but he had no idea if there was so much as a bus stop anywhere near Gilgamesh’s house. He'd accept the ride. “Sorry,” he said, unable to resist it.

“Don't apologize,” Gilgamesh said with a scowl.

“So–” Shirou bit his lip to keep from saying it again. He got up. “I'll do the dishes,” he said, reaching for Gilgamesh’s plate.

The other man grabbed his wrist. “Leave it for the maid,” he said. He tugged Shirou forward, closer to him, and stood at the same time. Shirou stared into his coppery eyes.

He thought vaguely that they should just go to bed and sleep. Gilgamesh was going to work in the morning, and the day’s events had to have tired him. Shirou couldn't articulate those thoughts, though, as his boss’s hand pressed into his lower back to keep him still as he leaned down for a kiss.

“You have to go to work tomorrow,” Shirou said, but he didn't pull away.

Gilgamesh didn't reply, only pressed his lips to Shirou’s, and Shirou couldn't help but respond.

“Let's go to bed,” Gilgamesh said, after a dizzyingly long kiss. Shirou didn't understand how he wasn't completely breathless.

He expected Gilgamesh to push him down onto the bed as soon as they'd gotten through the door, but he didn't. Instead, he shut the door behind them and then pulled Shirou close without bothering to turn the light on, just embracing him tightly around his torso and resting his forehead on Shirou’s shoulder. Shirou could smell his shampoo. He hadn’t styled his hair today, and it was soft against Shirou’s cheek as the smaller man put his own hands hesitantly on Gilgamesh’s hips. “I don’t want to fight with you,” Gilgamesh said, his voice slightly muffled.

Shirou slid his hands around to the small of Gilgamesh’s back and pulled him in even closer. He wanted to apologize, again, although he wasn’t sure what he wanted to apologize for. Instead, he said, “I want to see where this relationship can go.”

He wondered if that was the wrong thing to say as Gilgamesh stiffened slightly in his arms. “I haven’t felt this unguarded in a relationship in a long time,” the taller man said, straightening and pulling away enough that he could look at Shirou. “I have never tried to salvage something that was falling apart, or try to work through a setback.”

“Just keep being honest with me,” Shirou said, carefully. “That’s all I want.”

“I’ll be honest, then,” Gilgamesh said, pressing a soft kiss to Shirou’s lips, “I want you. I don’t care about work, and I don’t care about the bastards who put that photo in the news.”

Shirou let Gilgamesh push him back against the door again, like he had done on the plane back from New Mexico. Like he had done in the hotel room, before he’d finally confessed his feelings. He let Gilgamesh’s hands roam up his torso beneath his shirt and undershirt. His fingers were warm against Shirou’s skin, and so was his mouth as he kissed Shirou’s throat. He pushed closer with his body and ground his hips into Shirou’s.

Gently, and a little grudgingly, Shirou pushed Gilgamesh away from him. Gilgamesh tilted his head, catlike in his confusion, and Shirou smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it slowly off. He followed with his undershirt, and put out a hand to stop Gilgamesh when the man tried to come forward to touch him again. He unfastened his belt slowly, unzipped his pants even slower, then let them fall abruptly to the floor.

Gilgamesh was clearly making a real effort to restrain himself. His expression was purely hungry, the expression of a lion just sighting its dinner. Shirou hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and looked Gilgamesh in the eye. “Do you still want to spoil me?”

“Yes,” Gilgamesh said, finally surging forward and lifting Shirou up completely before putting him on the bed. Those warm hands tugged his underwear down and off, and that warm mouth immediately engulfed the head of his cock.

Shirou let his voice come out, louder than he had previously, gasping and moaning as Gilgamesh teased his entrance with his fingers. He reached down and grabbed a fistful of Gilgamesh’s hair to tug the man’s head up and away from his dick, guiding him to move up and kiss Shirou on the mouth instead. Gilgamesh’s full weight pressed down on Shirou and the feel of the fabric of Gilgamesh’s clothing against his fevered skin was overwhelming.

He squirmed out from under the other man, who pushed himself up enough that Shirou was able to roll onto his stomach and drag himself across the bed to reach into the drawer where Gilgamesh kept his lube. “Fuck me from behind,” Shirou said. “Please.”

“From behind?” Gilgamesh repeated, and Shirou glanced back at him. His focus was on Shirou’s ass, and he reached out and grabbed it, parting Shirou’s cheeks. Shirou pushed his hips up and arched his back. He slid the bottle of lube toward Gilgamesh and then canted his hips up even higher.

Gilgamesh took the hint, slicking his fingers and pouring a generous amount down Shirou’s crack. He pushed two fingers in immediately. Shirou cried out at the sudden penetration. It was so different from the slow and meticulous preparation Gilgamesh usually engaged in.

It was perfect. It was exactly what Shirou wanted right now. He shifted so he was on his knees, bent over with his ass in the air and his chest pressed into the bed. Gilgamesh followed his movement without letting his fingers slip out. “Is this what you prefer?” he asked.

He curled his fingers at the same time. All Shirou could do in response was moan.

Gilgamesh did not waste any time in unfastening his own pants to get his dick out. He only pushed them down far enough to get them out of the way. He didn’t bother removing his shirt. His push into Shirou was rougher than usual, less controlled, and Shirou loved it. Gilgamesh put one hand on the small of Shirou’s back, fingers spread out across Shirou’s spine. His other arm snaked around Shirou’s hips so he could grasp his cock, which was slick from excess lube.

The position, the rough treatment, and the idea that he was really in over his head at this point combined meant Shirou didn’t last long. He clawed at the bedspread as he came, distantly aware that he’d just made a mess of the bed they needed to sleep in. Gilgamesh didn’t stop his thrusts and Shirou’s legs quivered with the effort of holding himself up.

Finally, Gilgamesh curled over Shirou’s back as he came. He grazed the back of Shirou’s neck with his teeth, which made Shirou cry out again, before he pulled out and rolled off the smaller man.

Shirou shifted his position too. He avoided the mess he’d made in favor of pressing up against Gilgamesh’s side. He kissed Gilgamesh’s shoulder, the only thing he could really reach, through the fabric of his shirt.

Gilgamesh ruffled his hair affectionately before getting up and going into the bathroom. Shirou listened to the sound of the sink, but his usual unwillingness to move after sex had settled in hard and he couldn’t bring himself to care about much of anything at that immediate moment.

He drifted off to sleep before Gilgamesh even came back, but the older man woke him up so he could strip the bedspread from the bed. He spooned himself around Shirou and they both fell asleep quickly.

* * *

Shirou spent Friday alternating between looking for new rumors concerning Gilgamesh online and exploring Gilgamesh’s house. He remembered most of it from the tour Gilgamesh had given Mr. Tanemoto, but he decided to check out the backyard as well. Gilgamesh had called the police first thing that morning and most of the paparazzi had dispersed, but Shirou was hesitant about going out front anyway. The back was a different story, surrounded by a high stone wall for most of the yard, with slatted wooden fences filling in any gaps. It was also mostly wooded.

Alicia, the maid, showed up around ten, apparently unfazed by the crowd of photographers still loitering out front. Shirou retreated out to the pool house, where he discovered Gilgamesh kept a well-appointed gym. He didn't really want to work out at present, but there was also a small lounge area with a bar and a TV, so he sat down and turned the TV on for background noise while he looked at his phone.

He'd gained about seven hundred new Instagram followers in the last twenty four hours. He looked at the sudden masses of comments on his recent posts and it quickly became apparent there was a contingent of Rin’s fans defending him on social media. Even more apparent was that a lot of people hated him suddenly. There were a wide variety of threats to his person and livelihood, but he only had to read about ten before he decided to suspend the account. He was glad Rin had never actually convinced him to expand his social media presence.

He texted Artoria.  _ When do you leave for work? _

She called him instead of texting back. “Hello?” he said.

“Sorry, I hit call by accident,” she said.

“That's fine. It's not like I'm doing anything. Just cooped up in Gilgamesh’s house.”

“How are you? Is Gilgamesh still with you?”

“He went to the office, but I'm fine. I mean as fine as I can be, considering.”

“I really thought you were over getting into risky relationships,” Artoria said. She sighed. “I should have told you not to go on that vacation, but I know you would have gone anyway.”

“I’m sure I would have,” he agreed.

“Shirou, as your best friend, I want to tell you this is the stupidest thing you've ever done. I know I encouraged you to go after him in the first place, but he's your boss, and he's famous. You can't go back from this now.”

“I know,” Shirou said. “I know I shouldn't have gone on the trip.”

“You always go along with things too easily,” she said. “Are you going to stay with him? He can't possibly expect to keep you on as an assistant.”

“He told me he wants to, but I don't see how it could work. I have enough savings to keep me going until all this dies down, so don't worry about it.”

“I'm not worried about that… You've paid my share of the rent more than a few times, and I can do the same for you. I'm worried about you. Are you going to keep seeing him after this?”

“It's… complicated,” Shirou said. He pulled his legs up into the chair he was sitting in and wrapped the arm that wasn't holding the phone around them. “It's not just up to me.”

“Do you think he wants you to?”

“He says he does.”

“And is he sincere?”

“I think so? I've never gone out with anyone like him before, so it's hard for me to really say.” He had no reason to doubt Gilgamesh’s sincerity, but he couldn't stop the return of his nagging feeling that he wasn't good enough for a man like Gilgamesh anyway. “I don't really know what he sees in me.”

Artoria was silent for long enough that Shirou had to pull the phone away from his ear to see that it was still connected. She finally took a deep breath and said, “You're an amazing person, Shirou. I think you should take him for his word. He’s already risking his reputation for you.”

“You're right,” Shirou said.

“I need to get ready to leave. Make sure you stay safe. If there's an emergency, call me, okay?”

“Okay,” Shirou said. “You stay safe too.”

“I'll be careful.”

“Bye. I’ll see you Monday, right?”

“Yeah, Monday. Goodbye.”

Shirou stayed where he was, watching the news for a little while before getting up and heading back to the house.

* * *

Gilgamesh came home around 3:00, as irritated as Shirou had ever seen him. Shirou was laying on the couch, reading a book he’d stolen out of Gilgamesh’s library, and Gilgamesh came in and dropped his motorcycle helmet on a chair before throwing himself down onto the couch across from Shirou. “Are you okay?” Shirou asked. He put the book down and sat up.

“I went in to do real work today,” Gilgamesh said, “But I cannot convince anyone to stop their meaningless reactions to our relationship.”

“Are you really that surprised?” Shirou asked. “Haven’t you been in scandals before?”

“Never one that involved work like this.”

It seemed hard to believe that was true, but it probably was. “Do you want to have an early dinner before I go home?” Shirou asked. “I’ll bet you didn’t take a lunch break.”

“I didn’t,” Gilgamesh said. “Dinner, then, and then I’ll take you home.”

“Should I call a car? Or should we order pizza?”

“I'll drive,” Gilgamesh said. “I know a good place where they don't allow photographers.” He grinned, the same savage expression he'd had when talking about breaking Hakuno Kishinami’s arm, “And I know how to lose the paparazzi on the way.”

* * *

They took Gilgamesh’s least ostentatious car, a classic-looking black BMW, instead of either of the bright, shiny gold luxury vehicles also parked in the garage. That choice was governed more by the inability of the gold cars to fit Shirou’s suitcase than any real practical reason. The windows were tinted dark enough on the BMW that Shirou suspected it was probably illegal, and they were somehow able to slip out the front gate without killing anyone. There were considerably less photographers standing around than there had been the previous day.

Gilgamesh’s driving left Shirou somewhere between admiring how sexy the man looked behind the wheel and fearing for his own life as the man made sudden turns and lane changes to try to lose the pursuers who had immediately started following them.

They were taking a meandering path, doubling back a few times, but Gilgamesh managed to shake even the most determined of the paparazzi before they headed to the restaurant. It was a small, out of the way place, with no windows and a walled-in parking lot. It actually looked more than a little seedy, but the interior was tastefully decorated.

It was mostly empty, which wasn’t surprising considering how early in the evening it still was. Gilgamesh ordered for Shirou, including a glass of wine, claiming he couldn’t get the full experience of the place unless he drank the wine with his meal.

When their food came out, Shirou considered the accompanying wine and then looked Gilgamesh in the eye. “That first night we were in New Mexico,” he said, “were you actually trying to get me drunk?”

Gilgamesh shrugged. “I wanted to see what you were like when you really loosened up,” he said. “Don’t worry, I had no ill intentions beyond that. I made sure you got to your room alright after, didn’t I?”

“That’s not really the point. I guess I’m partly to blame, too, since I went along with it, but I’m really not a big drinker.”

“Do you not want your wine?”

“I’ll have the one glass, since you say it makes the meal. But no more than that.”

Gilgamesh held up his own glass in a toasting gesture, and Shirou did the same. “Fine, I won’t try to ply you with drink again,” he said. “As long as you agree to trust my taste when it comes to dining.”

Shirou thought they should be discussing what to do next over the rest of the meal, but he couldn’t bring himself to bring it up. In the back of his mind, he kept thinking that this dinner might be their last real date, because he had no idea what was going to end up happening with his job or this relationship. He could call Gilgamesh on Saturday to have a serious discussion.

On top of that, Gilgamesh had unwound so much from his earlier tension. He seemed as relaxed and happy as he’d been in Belize. They mostly talked about Shirou’s experience going to school in Japan, and how he’d thought briefly about going into international relations before deciding he preferred working more of a purely support role.

After dinner, Gilgamesh asked the waiter to have someone check outside to make sure none of the paparazzi had tracked them down, and they left after being given the all-clear.

* * *

There were, thankfully, no photographers hanging around Shirou’s building. He suspected if there had been any, they would have been run off earlier by the landlord, who disliked his residents being inconvenienced. Kirei was actually in the lobby when they walked in, Gilgamesh having parked illegally so he could help Shirou carry his bags up to his apartment in a show of perhaps excessive gallantry.

He nodded in greeting to the man as he and Gilgamesh walked by, and Kirei nodded back as he watched them. Gilgamesh ignored him completely.

Gilgamesh did not come in, only escorting Shirou to the door and then leaving, apologetically explaining that he needed to make sure some paperwork regarding the New Mexico factory was all in order so he could get it to the lawyer before the weekend was over. It should have been Shirou’s job, but he didn’t think there was a purpose in pointing that out. He’d more or less made this bed, and he was increasingly aware he was just going to have to lie in it, and let Gilgamesh take care of the details.

He wished Artoria hadn’t gone on that job. It was too quiet in the apartment once Gilgamesh had left. He turned the TV on, again just for the background noise, and flopped down on the couch. Artoria had very carefully put all of her recording and gaming gear away before she left, which meant this weekend would be a good time to do some deep cleaning, but that could wait until the next day. Despite having done nothing but sit around all morning and afternoon, he was feeling inexplicably tired. Maybe the wine had something to do with it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains sexual assault!

He woke up on the couch hours later. The sun had set, and the only light in the room was the blue-tinted light of the TV. He got up, turned the TV off, and switched the lights on. He’d left his suitcase just sitting in the kitchen, so he unpacked, wishing he’d thought to ask Artoria if she wanted him to take care of her laundry over the weekend since he definitely needed to do his own, and then remembering he could just text her. He did that, and then he went to the storage closet to put his luggage away.

As soon as he opened the door to the closet he realized something was wrong, and when he flipped the light on in there it was obvious what. Their water heater was housed in that room, and it was very clearly leaking. It possibly had been leaking for a while. The closet, being off the kitchen, had tile on the floor instead of the wooden flooring of the rest of the apartment, which hopefully meant it wasn’t dripping down into the apartment below theirs, but it looked like everything that was on the floor was already wet.

Shirou called Kirei before he started pulling things out of the closet. Artoria had a tendency to store her game consoles in their original boxes, which was a disaster in this situation. At least the books and their spare clothing and bedding were in plastic tubs.

Kirei answered right away, despite Shirou having called the office instead of his personal number. Usually office hours were over by that late, but Kirei did live in the building as well, so it probably wasn’t too abnormal for him to be in the office late. “Management,” Kirei said, by way of a greeting.

“Hey, this is Emiya in 1003,” Shirou said. “Um, our hot water heater is leaking. I don’t know how long it’s been leaking, either. I’m not really sure how to turn the water off.”

“Oh dear,” Kirei said, the words coming off as somewhat insincere in his deep monotone. “The handyman has already left for the weekend. I will come up and show you how to turn the water off, and call a plumber.”

“Thanks,” Shirou said. “Sorry for having an emergency after hours.”

“Do not worry,” Kirei said. “There is no way to time such things.” He hung up, then, without saying goodbye.

Shirou stared at his phone. It had been a long time since he’d so much as spoken to Kirei on the phone, so he’d forgotten how brusque the man was. It really was off-putting.

He started taking boxes out of the closet, putting anything cardboard and wet on the counter next to the sink and piling whatever wasn’t wet in the living room. He was going to have to combine his and Artoria’s towels to mop up the mess, so it was just as well he was going to be doing laundry the following day. He hoped the towels would even be enough. Maybe Kirei could lend him something to help.

There was a knock on the door as he was thinking that, and he opened it to reveal the landlord, who was carrying a toolbox that looked comically small held in his gigantic hand. Shirou led him to the closet, as if he didn’t know where the water heater was, and showed him the mess. “I was just about to go get some towels to start mopping it up. I can’t really tell where it’s coming from, but I don’t know anything about plumbing anyway.”

He wasn’t prepared at all for Kirei’s hand suddenly closing over his mouth and nose from behind, covering his face with a piece of fabric that was definitely soaked in something. He tried to pull away, but the larger man wrapped his other arm around Shirou’s chest and held him in place. He couldn’t budge either hand. He tried going limp, thinking that might allow him to slide out of the other man’s grasp, but that didn’t work either. Neither did stomping on Kirei’s foot. His last thought before whatever Kirei had put on the cloth stole his consciousness away was that he’d never realized knocking someone out that way was actually possible in real life.

* * *

He woke up, groggy and nauseous, in a bed. His mind was clouded enough that he didn’t realize at first he was in an unfamiliar place, and didn’t remember what had happened to get him there. He remembered the latter first, and he felt like he could still vividly smell the cloth that had been over his nose, which only made him more nauseous. He tried to suppress it as he raised himself up on his elbows to look around.

The bed itself looked like something a grandmother would own, with carved wooden head and footboards and a soft, crochet blanket that he’d been tucked in with like a child. The room, on the other hand, was bare and industrial-looking. The only other furniture was what looked like a portable dinner tray table sitting right next to the bed, and a beat-up chest of drawers against one wall. The room itself was long, the bed sitting at the center of it, with three walls of bare concrete and one wall of white-painted cinder blocks. The cinderblock wall held the only door, near the wall where the chest of drawers was. It was an imposing-looking metal door with a large deadbolt near the top. The floor and ceiling were bare concrete as well, except the floor had been polished smooth. There was a drain set in it near the bed, a small, round, brass grate like the kind found in public restrooms. The whole room was dimly lit by two rows of bare fluorescent bulbs.

Even more disconcerting than the contrast between the bed and the rest of the room were the number of large eye bolts attached to the walls, floor, and ceiling. Most ominously, there was one directly above the headboard of the bed on the wall.

He sat up completely, which caused the room to spin. Whatever he’d been drugged with was clearly having lasting effects on him. He wasn’t sure he’d be steady enough to walk straight to the door, but he thought that he could go around the room’s perimeter with the wall for support until he got there.

Kirei came in before Shirou could actually get out of the bed. Shirou froze where he was.

The landlord was still dressed the same as he’d been earlier, which meant it was probably the same day, but his expression was not the stoically blank one he typically wore. Upon seeing Shirou out of the bed, he looked delighted, his face cracking into a smile that looked so unnatural it sent another wave of nausea through Shirou’s gut.

He stayed perfectly still as Kirei crossed the room in a few long strides, but he wasn't prepared for or expecting the other man to smoothly climb on top of him in the bed as soon as he reached it. He didn't speak, instead reaching down to hook one finger beneath Shirou’s chin to tilt his head up, and then leaning in. His other hand pushed down on Shirou’s shoulder.

Shirou headbutted him. It was a lucky hit, and Kirei reared up, clutching his nose. A couple of droplets of blood landed on Shirou’s face as he did.

Kirei was no longer holding him down, only straddling his hips, so Shirou dove off the side of the bed. He was tangled in the blanket, which he kicked away violently as he slammed into the floor. He got free enough to try to stand, but before he could get up, a hard blow hit him from behind and he fell back down. He felt the press of Kirei’s boot on his back, the pressure steadily increasing until it was hard to breathe, but the second it lifted he tried again to get up, his full focus on the door out of the room.

Kirei kicked him in the gut. Shirou toppled sideways, sliding a little on the polished concrete floor. Kirei kicked him again, harder the second time, and Shirou curled in on himself to protect his stomach, shocked by the violence of Kirei’s attack. The larger man wrenched one of his arms up, yanking Shirou almost to his feet, but not allowing him to get any purchase on the floor before throwing him onto the bed.

He hit the mattress hard enough to knock the wind out of him for a moment. Kirei was on top of him again before he could really move, one hand on Shirou’s forehead to prevent another headbutt, the other squarely on his chest. Shirou braced his own hands against Kirei’s shoulders in an attempt to push him away, but the other man was too heavy and too strong, and he couldn’t do anything as Kirei bit the side of his neck hard enough to draw blood, hard enough that Shirou was very afraid he was actually going to bite a chunk of flesh off.

Shirou kneed him in the crotch. Kirei’s reaction to that was immediate. He backhanded Shirou across the face. The shock of the blow made Shirou see stars. Then he wrapped a single one of his enormous hands around Shirou’s throat.

The pressure was light at first, like a threat of what Kirei could do, but when Shirou tried to pry his hand away he pushed down. “You’re fighting more than I expected,” Kirei said. “I can’t say I’m disappointed. It’ll be so much sweeter when I break you.”

Shirou couldn’t answer even if he had an answer for that. He couldn’t breathe, and his vision was starting to go white. He scrabbled at Kirei’s hand.

Kirei released him and Shirou gasped for breath, but even as he recovered he tried to crawl away from Kirei. Kirei hit him across the face again. He then yanked Shirou’s shirt back down his arms, tangling them beneath his body. He walked away.

Shirou tried to untangle his arms and roll off the bed, but also watched Kirei, who opened a drawer at the top of the dresser across the room. He took out a pile of rope. Shirou managed to get one arm free from his shirt and got to his feet again, but Kirei was between him and the door. He stood there, tense, shaking the shirt free from his other arm.

Once Kirei was close enough, Shirou tried to duck around him and make another run for it. Kirei tripped him with a simple sideways movement of his leg and Shirou crashed down to the floor again. He hit his chin, which wrenched his neck, and he felt Kirei’s boot on his back once again as the larger man pulled his arms together. He held both Shirou’s wrists in one hand and twisted them with the other so his hands were palm to palm before looping a rope around them.

He tied Shirou tightly. His hands felt cold almost immediately from the compression cutting off his blood supply. When he pulled Shirou to his feet this time, he had trouble balancing, although that didn’t stop him from stumbling towards the door again. He didn’t even know how he could open it. Could he undo the deadbolt with his teeth? Like Kirei would let him take that much time.

Kirei shoved him back toward the bed, and this time when he toppled backwards onto it his own body weight wrenched his arms painfully. Shirou tried to kick Kirei as the man folded one of his legs back, but he caught his foot and tucked the other leg under his arm while he worked. He tied Shirou around his knee, then used his hip to pin that leg down to the bed while he tied the other. Then he let go and stood back. Shirou was like a turtle on its back now, unable to get enough leverage to turn over, and not sure how he would go anywhere if he did. He doubted he’d be able to get up if he fell on the floor. What was he going to do even if he did? Shuffle on his knees? There was no hope of reaching the deadbolt like this.

Kirei had taken a knife out of his pocket. It was a boxcutter, really, the kind with the blade designed to be snapped away when it got too dull. He used it to saw through the length of rope that was connecting Shirou’s knees, and then he leaned down and put his face close to Shirou’s before letting the blade rest on his stomach where his undershirt had ridden up somewhat. “Are you done?” he asked.

Shirou tried to headbutt him again but Kirei backed off too quickly. “Let me go,” Shirou said.

Kirei lifted the edge of his undershirt and used the blade to make a small cut before retracting it and putting it back in his pocket. He used the cut to tear Shirou’s shirt open all the way to the collar and then splayed his hand across Shirou’s chest and slid it up. He moved forward enough that his body blocked Shirou from being able to catch his arm between his knees, then he pressed in closer. His crotch rubbed against Shirou’s and now Shirou’s entire body went cold as he felt how hard Kirei was through his pants.

He was surprised when Kirei abruptly backed away. He shifted Shirou’s body so he was on his side in the bed, his head on the pillow, and then picked up the blanket from the floor and draped it on top of him. Unbelievably, he kissed Shirou on the side of his forehead before walking back to the door. “I’ll be back later,” he said. He flipped the lightswitch and left the room in complete darkness.

* * *

Shirou woke up sore, numb, and angry in various ways. He didn’t realize what had woken him at first, although he also barely realized he’d ever fallen asleep, until the lights came on and he was able to twist his head to see Kirei Kotomine closing the door, locking it, and sliding the deadbolt home.

He was carrying a plastic bag that clanked ominously. Shirou thought about trying to squirm off the bed again, but he considered that Kirei might untie him if he thought he was going to be docile, which would give him a better chance. He resisted the urge to try biting the man’s hand when he reached over to tilt Shirou’s head up at an uncomfortable angle. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“No,” Shirou said, simply.

“I’m going to untie your hands. They’re so white,” Kirei said. “Stay still.”

Shirou did stay still, still and tense. As soon as his hands were free he moved to bring them around to his front, but Kirei grabbed both his wrists and held them in place. “I said stay still,” he said.

“This is uncomfortable,” Shirou said.

Kirei seemed to consider that. He released Shirou’s hands, and said nothing when Shirou rolled onto his back so he could hold both hands in front of him and look at them. They were white and bloodless, and completely numb. He couldn’t even massage one with the other, but Kirei once again took hold of one of them and started doing that. He dug his thumbs in, and after a moment his hand started to ache instead of feel only numb. The other hand followed.

Shirou watched Kirei, his attention focused on Kirei’s face while Kirei’s was focused on his hands. “What do you want with me?” he asked, again. He hadn’t gotten an answer when he’d asked before.

“Everything,” Kirei said, without looking up. His tone was soft. Uncomfortably gentle. Shirou wanted to throw up.

He was still wearing his undershirt, torn up to the collar as Kirei had left it, and Kirei pulled him into a sitting position and pulled the collar up over his head. It was hard to get his arms out of the sleeves because his hands had pins and needles now. Shirou held his breath to keep from making any sounds of pain.

“Why now? I’ve lived here for years,” he finally said.

Kirei snorted. He stood up and went again to the dresser across the room. Shirou stayed where he was, since his hands were too useless to try to get the rope off his legs and he couldn’t walk. The other man brought back an issue of one of the local gossip magazines, the photo of him and Gilgamesh on the side of the pool in Belize large on the front cover. “This,” he said.

It irritated Shirou. Kirei had almost certainly seen Shirou making out with previous boyfriends in the lobby, in person, and had apparently been unbothered by that. Unless… it occurred to him that Gilgamesh had the kind of reputation that might make Kirei suspect he would buy Shirou an apartment or something that ostentatious, and Shirou would leave.

But that was stupid. Shirou said, “Did it ever occur to you that you could have asked me out instead of kidnapping me, assaulting me, and tying me up in a basement? If you’re interested in me like that.”

“I’m not interested in you the way you’re implying,” Kirei said, folding the magazine in half and putting it back in the drawer he’d taken it out of. “I’m interested in kidnapping you, assaulting you, and tying you up in a basement.”

What the hell did that mean? How long had Kirei planned this? He looked around the room again, a more critical eye, and took in the hooks set into the ceiling and walls, the bed, the fact that Kirei had rope in the drawer of the dresser. What else was in that dresser? Was this room always intended as a prison for him? That seemed unbelievable.

The thought that he was not the first person Kirei had kidnapped was the worst thought he’d had yet. If that was true, what had happened to his other victims? If that was true, how had no one found him out? It wasn’t like other residents of the building had disappeared, though, at least not since Shirou had moved in.

His eyes settled on the floor, the well-polished concrete with the drain in the center of the room. Like it was designed for easy cleanup.

Kirei didn’t say anything else, allowing Shirou to come to his own conclusions, but when Shirou’s gaze moved back up from the floor to focus on him again he leaned down and picked up the bag he’d put on the floor before untying Shirou’s hands. He took a chain out of it, a chain that was attached to what looked like a dog collar. Black leather with a sturdy-looking buckle that had a space for a tiny padlock, currently dangling open from its loop.

Shirou balled his hands together and swung them at Kirei like a club, catching the man in his stomach and eliciting a grunt. He rolled straight off the bed yet again, yanking at the knot on one of the ropes around his knees, shuffling awkwardly across the floor towards the door. He expected Kirei to kick him from behind again, or choke him, or just grab him and throw him back onto the bed, but he made it all the way to the door. He had made no purchase on the rope around his knee, but he grabbed the doorknob and stretched his other hand upwards toward the deadbolt.

He couldn’t reach it. It would have been above his head if he were standing, and there was no way he could stretch that far. He kept reaching anyway, until he became aware that Kirei was standing right behind him.

He reacted too late to keep Kirei from hooking the collar around his throat. He choked Shirou with it as he buckled it, and Shirou heard the faint click of the padlock over the blood roaring in his ears. Then Kirei let go of it, and Shirou slumped against the door, feeling around the thing, feeling how sturdy it was. It was snug enough that he couldn’t really get his fingers beneath it easily, although it wasn’t so tight that it actually hindered his breathing or swallowing. It still felt like it was choking him.

It did choke him again when Kirei yanked on the chain, pulling Shirou backwards so he was leaning against Kirei’s legs instead of the door. Shirou looked up at him and saw unbridled delight on Kirei’s face. He tried to push away from the man’s legs but the way he held the chain didn’t allow it. He felt like a dog being taught how to heel, which was probably the effect Kirei was going for.

His knees hurt, but Kirei made him walk on them back over to the bed before lifting him up beneath his arms and putting him back on the mattress. He looped the end of the chain through one of the hooks that was above the bed, and produced another padlock to secure it there.

He stood back and watched Shirou pull on the chain. Shirou knew Kirei wouldn’t be just observing if there was the slightest chance that he would be able to break it, or pull the hook out of the wall, or get it loose in any way, and he still had no strength in his hands, but he tried it anyway. The hook must have been anchored deep into the concrete wall. There was no hope of budging it.

Up to this point, Shirou had still felt defiant, had still felt that he might be able to escape, but now he could feel real despair in the pit of his stomach. No one knew where he was. He wasn’t even sure where he was, although he suspected it was actually the basement of his own building. The idea that he could be trapped so close to home without hope of escape or rescue, was something that probably would break him, like Kirei wanted. Maybe sooner rather than later.

Kirei must have observed how the reality of the situation had sunk in. He moved back forward, sitting on the edge of the bed, and used the same knife as he’d had before to cut through the ropes on Shirou’s knees. Those hadn’t been so tight as to cut off blood flow, but his legs were cramped and sore from having been in the same position for so long. He hesitated for a moment, watching Kirei’s face, before stretching them out.

Then, Kirei’s hands settled on Shirou’s hips, fingers curling in to dip under the waistband of his pants. Shirou still had his belt on, which kept Kirei from actually just pulling his pants down, but the feeling of his fingers touching skin below his waist made Shirou tense up again.

It was difficult to think about, but Shirou realized then that if Kirei was going to rape him, he might be kept alive. He’d assumed that’s what Kirei wanted from the beginning, since the man had gone out of his way to touch him, and to kiss him, and of course he’d been so hard the previous day. It wasn’t a good thought, that being kept as a sex slave would be better than being killed immediately. Maybe he was chained to the wall, and maybe no one knew where he was or who to suspect, but as long as he was alive he might still be able to escape someday.

That didn’t mean he was going to submit willingly, though. His arms and legs were both free now, and as Kirei moved his hands from Shirou’s hips to his belt buckle, Shirou twisted away from him. He pulled his knees up against his chest and curled in on himself.

This did not deter Kirei in any way. Instead, Shirou felt the blade of that improbably sharp knife against the small of his back. Kirei slid it down, leaving a stinging cut behind it, and cut cleanly through Shirou’s belt and waistband.

This time when Shirou tried to maneuver away from him, Kirei pinned him to the bed. Shirou ended up on his stomach, with his left arm and leg pinned beneath him, as Kirei yanked his pants and underwear down from behind. He ground his still-clothed crotch against Shirou’s now exposed ass.

Shirou made a noise that was between a gasp and a yell. He tried to use the chain as leverage to drag himself away from Kirei, but the other man was now lifting him up with an arm under his stomach and tugging his pants the rest of the way down. Shirou pressed his legs together and tried curling up again to keep him from pulling them off but Kirei just kept pulling anyway. He could feel the fabric scrape rough against his skin.

His socks came off with his pants, since his shoes had already been missing when he'd woken up here. He was now fully naked, lying face-down on the bed beneath Kirei, new despair keeping him from moving at all. Even with the thought that being raped must be better than being killed in the back of his mind, Shirou wasn't sure that was the case, or that one wouldn't lead to the other. He had no real reason to believe Kirei wasn't going to have his way with him and then immediately kill him. It seemed like all of the effort that had gone into this room, and the collar and chain Kirei had put on him, would be wasted if he was killed like that, but Kirei was clearly not a rational man.

To his surprise, Kirei climbed back off the bed. He craned his neck around to see what the man was doing, afraid it was going to be something worse, but he merely picked up Shirou’s ruined clothes and pointed at a bucket he’d left on the floor next to the bed. “You can use that as a toilet. I will empty it later,” he said, before leaving with Shirou’s clothing. He left the lights on this time.

Shirou stayed perfectly still for a long time, despite the edge of the collar digging into his throat. When he finally moved, the first thing he did was test the full limits of the chain. He couldn't reach the door, or the chest of drawers. He could walk about three steps to either side of the bed and could stand comfortably at its foot. He tested the strength of the loop on the wall the chain was hooked to, and the padlock, and the chain itself. He tugged at the padlock on the collar as well, but the lack of mirrors in the room made it difficult to manipulate the collar in any way.

He used the bucket, as demeaning as it was.

Artoria had always said Kirei was a creep and had tried to keep Shirou from ever dealing with him. Shirou had always laughed it off but had let Artoria take care of anything that involved the landlord since she was the one home most of the time.

He lay back down on the bed, not sure if he should try to sleep. He was hungry, and it was cold in the room. He was reluctant to put the blanket back on because of how much it limited his mobility. Did that really matter, since he was chained to the wall?

Deciding he was being stupid about it he pulled the blanket back over himself. The chain made it difficult to get comfortable, dragging along the pillow whenever he moved, but he eventually managed it. He thought he could use whatever energy sleep gave him, since he'd barely slept earlier, and closed his eyes.

* * *

The sound of the door being unlocked again woke him and he almost tossed the blanket off before deciding that might seem invitational to Kirei. He drew it up to his chest instead and sat up, watching the door open and his captor drag in a chair. Shirou recognized the chair immediately as being one from the lobby, confirming his suspicion he was still in the building, but he also dismissed it as being useless to him. He couldn't lift that chair, and it was too sturdy to take apart and use as a weapon that way.

Not that it mattered, since Kirei positioned it against the wall toward the foot of the bed and well out of Shirou’s reach. He was busy doing that when Shirou got up, walking to the chain’s limit so he could see what was outside of the still-open door.

He was definitely in the basement. He could see the concrete wall of the building’s foundation, and a column, and, making his stomach twist in hope that he wasn't sure he should have, a window, high in the wall not ten feet from the door.

It might as well be miles away, though, unless he could find a way out of the collar. Kirei was watching him, clearly unconcerned with Shirou having glimpsed his possible escape, smiling predatorily.

He left the room again, still leaving the door wide open, and came back with another plastic bag. This one he brought to the bed, taking out a bottle of water and a wrapped convenience-store sandwich, dropping them on the mattress as Shirou watched from where he stood. He then went over and sat in the chair, steepling his fingers with his eyes on Shirou.

Shirou moved slowly back to the bed. He expected some kind of treachery, for the water to be drugged, maybe, but the seal on the bottle was intact. His stomach growled audibly and Kirei said, “Eat. You'll need your strength.”

The words hung in the air, ominous. Shirou wanted to throw the sandwich back in the man’s face, but whatever Kirei had planned for him, not eating when he had the chance would be a foolish countermeasure.

He still couldn't resist sniffing the water when he opened the bottle, and from across the room Kirei laughed. “It's not drugged,” he said. “I'm not interested unless you’re sober.”

Shirou’s stomach turned at that but he took a long drink anyway, then tore open the sandwich. It was a simple turkey sandwich with cheese and tomatoes, and he tried to pace himself eating it, but he was too hungry to really go slow. He finished it and drank the rest of the water.

Kirei got up and came over. It took all of Shirou’s willpower not to shy away, but the man only took the empty bottle and sandwich wrapper and put them back in the bag he'd brought them in before taking it over and hanging it on the doorknob. Shirou stayed warily where he was. He had no idea what this man was planning. It was strange that he'd brought the chair in. Just to watch Shirou eat? What was the point of that?

He tensed as Kirei walked back over, but he still didn't move, not until Kirei pushed up against him and he lost his balance and stumbled back. The bed was too close, and he couldn't catch himself. He fell against the mattress again.

Again, he expected the worst to happen, and again, Kirei didn’t touch him after that. He only stood and looked down at him. Shirou glared back, although he was all too conscious of his nudity and his defenseless position. He wasn’t going to be able to physically overpower Kirei.

The man walked away. He went around to the other side of the bed and picked up the bucket, carrying it over to the door and leaning out to swap it with another one, which he carried back to the bed. He didn’t even bother closing the door while he did that, as if wanting to emphasize Shirou’s current state of helplessness.

It didn’t even occur to Shirou that he should have yelled or something until after Kirei had left again. This time, he’d turned out the lights. The darkness made the room seem colder, so Shirou wrapped the blanket around himself and settled back down on the bed. His mind was too turbulent to think rationally about escape.

Instead, he thought about Gilgamesh, who would wonder why he didn’t call on Saturday. He thought about Artoria, who would come home to an empty apartment on Wednesday, with no way of knowing he wasn't just at work or at Gilgamesh’s house. He thought about his father, who would think he was standing him up for lunch on Sunday. He wondered if he was going to die here and if they would ever find out what had actually happened to him, until eventually he fell asleep again.

* * *

When he woke up again the room was still dark, but for only a moment before the door swung open once more. Shirou closed his eyes against the glare of the light. This time he stayed put in the bed, only sitting up to watch Kirei as the man closed and locked the door behind him. Kirei was again carrying a bag, and Shirou’s stomach rumbled at the sight of it. He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping, but he estimated that the sandwich from before had been his first meal in at least twelve hours, and it had not been enough to completely satisfy him.

Kirei walked to the bed with the bag. He stood there, looking down at Shirou, who looked up at him without moving any more than he already had. He reached into the bag and Shirou tensed, but what he pulled out was a bottle of water, which he pushed toward Shirou. “Drink this,” he said.

Shirou took it. It was, as the previous bottle of water had been, sealed, and he opened it and drank it. He took it slowly, Kirei watching him the entire time, until he’d finished the entire bottle. He actually had to use the toilet, quite badly, not having wanted to risk doing it in the dark. He didn’t want to do it with Kirei there either, but Kirei apparently anticipated this. “Use the bucket,” he said.

“What?”

“You surely have to urinate. Use the bucket.”

He didn’t know if Kirei was interested in watching him pee, but he was still reluctant. He did get up, though, and nudged the bucket with his foot so he could use it with his back to Kirei. His skin prickled, though, because turning his back to the other man was actually more terrifying than he’d realized it would be.

“Get back on the bed,” Kirei said when he was finished.

Shirou didn’t want to comply, but he also thought that Kirei expected and relished the struggle and would delight in wrestling him down. He took a deep, steadying breath, and did as he was told. He didn’t lay down, instead sitting on the pillow with his back against the headboard.

Kirei followed him onto the bed. He put his hands on Shirou’s legs, starting at the ankle and sliding up his calves. He leaned closer and slid them back down Shirou’s thighs, resting them on Shirou’s hips. He didn’t try to push Shirou’s legs open, although his chest was now pressed against Shirou’s knees, instead continuing his movement to run his hands up Shirou’s sides to his chest.

Something snapped in Shirou’s brain. He grabbed the chain from his collar, and because Kirei hadn’t anticipated this and was so close, he was able to loop it around Kirei’s neck. He pulled it as tight as he could manage, getting up on his knees to try to move behind Kirei.

Kirei got off the bed and stood, impossibly, dragging Shirou up with him. Shirou stood too, but unsteadily on top of the mattress instead of on the floor, and hung onto the chain with all his strength. He tried to keep behind Kirei as the larger man to grabbed at him. Maybe he would succeed here. Maybe he’d strangle Kirei into unconsciousness or even death, and find the key to the padlock at his throat in one of Kirei’s pockets. He’d escape, back upstairs to Artoria.

His grip on the chain slipped, but he caught it again. Kirei was pulling him forward, and he was going to fall off the bed. It didn’t matter if he could keep his grip. He’d take Kirei down with him.

He did fall off the bed, and he lost hold of the chain completely. The larger man did not fall, and he used the chain that was still looped around his neck to yank Shirou back up as soon as he'd landed on the floor. He hurled him back onto the bed and climbed in over him, extracting himself from the chain as he did so and letting the heavy metal links drop painfully onto Shirou’s back before they slid off over his shoulder.

Shirou tried to kick him, or punch, or anything, but he was again face down on the mattress and pinned beneath Kirei’s bulk. He thrashed and Kirei wrapped his arm around his neck to put him in a chokehold. Shirou clawed at the man’s arm. He couldn’t breathe.

Kirei held him like that as the fight ebbed out of him. His vision had gone white around the edges, and his hands fell down limply as he lost the strength to keep struggling. When Kirei released him, he just lay there, face down. Even when Kirei again got off the bed he didn’t move. He didn’t think he’d get another chance with the chain, and he had no other weapons at his disposal.

He didn't know whether to expect further violence at this point. He couldn't tell what Kirei really wanted. Did Kirei want him to give up before having his way with him?

Shirou did not want to give up. He rolled over so he could see what Kirei was doing. He was taking something out of the chest of drawers again, but it wasn't rope. Shirou couldn't identify it until the man came back, and then he saw that it was a syringe.

He came to that realization too late, as Kirei pinned him down again with a single hand on his throat. He watched helplessly as the landlord used his teeth to pull the cap off the syringe. “Stay still,” Kirei instructed, easing up the pressure on his throat.

“What is that?” Shirou asked.

“I'm going to put you to sleep for a while,” Kirei said.

“No! Let me go!”

“I'm going to take you out of the city. Somewhere it really won't matter how much you scream. Now relax.”

He let go of Shirou’s throat so he could take hold of his arm instead. Shirou tried to pull away but Kirei’s grip was vise-like in its strength. The practice with which he pushed the needle in was disturbing, but then he let Shirou go before pulling it completely out and tore the skin as Shirou yanked his arm away.

Shirou had no clue how fast this sedative was supposed to work. He felt sluggish immediately, but he had no way to tell if that was whatever drug Kirei had just given him or if it was psychosomatic. He curled up on his side, trying to will himself to stay awake as the world started to fade around him.


	10. Chapter 10

He woke up, unbelievably, in the hospital. At least, he vaguely recognized it as a hospital in the back of his mind. Most of his thoughts were preoccupied by the lack of the collar’s weight around his neck, the lack of any kind of restraint, and the door that was so tantalizingly close to him. He rolled out of the bed and moved cautiously but unsteadily towards the door.

The IV that was in his arm stopped him. The sharp pain brought him back to reality. He was in a hospital, dressed in a hospital gown, with an IV in his arm. The room was empty save for him, but there was a laptop he recognized as being Rin’s sitting on the small table beneath the window that was on one side of the room, and Archer’s jacket was hanging on the back of the chair next to the table.

He guessed he must have been rescued, somehow. Who had found him? He couldn’t imagine Kirei had given himself up. He wondered if Kirei had been arrested. Would the police be coming to talk to him? Would he have to testify as to everything that had happened?

Everything that had happened. In this environment, he couldn’t stomach it. He saw there was a small basin on a tray next to the bed and he grabbed it and vomited. He was still heaving into it when the door opened. Shirou turned to look and saw it was Archer, with Rin behind him. Archer stopped, and turned to Rin. “Go and get him some water,” he said, before coming in.

It was strange seeing him in a hospital setting without his white coat on. He came over and put his hand on Shirou’s back. “Are you done?” he asked.

Shirou nodded, wishing he had something to wipe his face off with, and Archer gently took the basin away from him and helped him back into the bed. He pressed the nurse call button on the console behind Shirou, then handed him a tissue from a box on the counter across the room. Rin returned with a cup of water. She handed it mutely to Shirou and he sipped it after wiping his face. It hurt his throat to swallow.

“How did I get here?” Shirou asked, wanting to know before a nurse or doctor arrived.

“Gilgamesh,” Archer said, his words punctuated by a scowl.

Shirou wasn't sure how to interpret that answer, so he didn't try. “How long was I gone?”

“It’s Tuesday,” he said.

He’d been kidnapped on Friday night. That was actually a longer span than he’d really thought it had been. He wondered how long Kirei had kept him drugged. He also wondered how he’d survived on nothing but two sandwiches and two bottles of water all that time. He glanced up at the IV and Archer followed his gaze. “You were pretty dehydrated when we found you,” he said.

“We?”

The door to the room opened and a nurse bustled in.

“I’ll tell you the whole story in a minute,” Archer said, before turning and talking with the nurse.

Shirou didn’t really follow what they were saying. He wasn’t seriously hurt, he knew that, he just had plenty of bruising and a few small cuts and abrasions. His hand went to his throat involuntarily as he wondered how they’d gotten the collar off. Had Kirei given up the key to the padlock? Had they needed to cut it off? His neck was sore to the touch, and it hurt when he moved his head.

The nurse turned to him and said, “We’ll bring you some lunch, okay?”

Shirou nodded. “Thanks,” he said.

She poked at him a little, and asked him for his pain level and if there was anything else he needed. At the moment, he needed to use the toilet, but that was about it. He didn’t think he needed a nurse for that, though. Eventually, she smiled and said, “The doctor will be along soon, okay? Just hit the call button if you need anything else.” She nodded at Archer and then left, taking the basin Shirou had thrown up in with her.

Rin had sat down in the chair, and Archer was leaning against the counter. “Do you want the whole story now or do you want to wait for the doctor?” Archer asked.

Shirou was glad he wasn’t demanding to know the other side of what had happened. “First, I need the toilet,” he admitted.

Archer helped him up. His legs weren’t injured, so he thought he’d be fine walking, but he underestimated how shaky he was from the lack of food for so long. It must have been pure adrenaline that had allowed him to move when he’d first woken up. He leaned on the pole his IV bag was hanging from as Archer guided him to the small toilet closet in the corner of the room. It was a relief anyway to be using something that wasn’t just a bucket.

He got back up, leaning against the sink to wash his hands. As preoccupied as he was with not falling over, he didn’t look in the mirror at first. When he did he was horrified to see the deep purple and yellow of his throat and neck. No wonder it hurt to touch. He imagined his ribs looked similar, from the kicks Kirei had given him, but he didn't even want to look. He wished he had something to cover the bruises with, although everyone must have already seen them.

When he came out, Archer helped him back to the bed, then showed him how to raise the head of it so he could sit up comfortably. He kept his hands busy, tucking the blankets around Shirou’s legs, then draping his jacket over Shirou’s shoulders when he noticed the goosebumps on his younger brother’s arms. It was cold in the hospital room, and the skimpy gown Shirou was in did not provide much in the way of warmth.

Archer returned to his position leaning against the counter, folding his arms. “Since Artoria was away, we don’t actually even know when you disappeared. Gilgamesh said it must have been Friday night, because he'd dropped you off early that evening but you didn't reply to his texts or calls after that.”

Shirou didn’t want to go into what Kirei had done after kidnapping him, but he provided a some clarity here. “I called Kirei on Friday because the hot water heater was leaking. I figured I’d just leave a message and the handyman would take care of it on Monday, but Kirei came up himself, and…” he trailed off.

“And kidnapped you,” Archer said.

“I didn’t mention it to anyone,” Shirou said. “Artoria never wanted me calling the landlord on my own. She always did it, but I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“She knew he was a creep,” Rin broke in. “But she didn’t think he was this much of one.”

Shirou looked over at Rin, whose fists were clenched on her knees. “Is Artoria okay?” he asked.

“She wanted to burn the entire building down,” Rin said. “I told her you wouldn’t appreciate all your clothes having been burnt to ash when we finally found you. We didn’t know you were in the basement.”

He’d been right about that, then. “But you said Gilgamesh..?” He trailed off, because he wasn’t actually sure if Archer had been saying Gilgamesh had found him or had just been the one to physically transport him to the hospital. He wondered where Gilgamesh was now.

“He was too angry to stay calmly here, so Rin had the idea to send him to go pick Dad up,” Archer said, “if you’re wondering where he is. They’ll probably get here soon. Artoria is with the police.”

“Did she do something?” Shirou asked, hoping she hadn’t been arrested for assaulting Kirei or something like that.

“She did break Kirei’s nose, but she’s not under arrest or anything. The police let that one slide. They just wanted to ask her questions about him. He was arrested, by the way.”

Shirou couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction that Artoria had injured Kirei. He certainly deserved it.

Archer continued his story. “When you didn’t contact him at all Saturday, he tried calling you. I think he thought you’d been cornered by some paparazzi or something, since the whole thing with the photos from Belize.” He paused, looking like he wanted to offer some commentary on what he thought of that whole situation, but he only took a deep breath before continuing. “Or you didn’t want to contact him because of that. But you still didn’t answer when he called. We’re not actually sure where your phone is. Artoria couldn’t find it in your apartment, and as far as I know the police haven’t found it yet either. It’s either turned off or dead and hidden somewhere, or Kirei got rid of it.”

Shirou shrugged. “It’s all backed up, anyway.” Losing his phone would be a pain to deal with, but it wasn’t something he was going to worry about now.

“Gilgamesh went to your apartment Sunday night--”

“He broke in,” Rin interjected. “Artoria was pretty mad about that, because when she got back she found the lock broken and thought you’d been robbed.”

“You weren’t there, though, and he waited hours but you never showed up, or Artoria. He didn’t know she was gone for work. I think he honestly thought the two of you had eloped.”

That was strange to consider. He wondered if Gilgamesh was somewhat jealous of his and Artoria’s closeness, but he found it hard to believe the man wasn’t fully aware of his proclivity towards men. Shirou wondered if Gilgamesh had honestly interpreted his request to go back to his own apartment that weekend as him wanting a chance to run away with Artoria, after having spent over a week having practically nonstop sex.

“He went back on Monday, when he ran into Artoria finally. He accused her of hiding you, actually, but before the two of them could get into a real fistfight Rin happened to show up. She and I hadn’t known you were missing, obviously. Eventually they called me and I came, but we couldn’t find anything in the apartment that gave us the slightest clue what had happened.”

That was almost amusing to Shirou. “You didn’t think the contents of the storage closet being strewn all over the kitchen was suspicious?” he asked.

Rin and Archer looked at each other. “They weren't,” Rin said. “At least, not when I arrived, and I got there less than an hour after she told me she was home.”

Had Kirei really stuffed everything back in the closet? What was the point of doing that? He stayed silent, though.

“Artoria didn't think of Kirei until she found out there was no hot water but I don't think she ever looked in the closet,” Rin said, “She just tore out of the apartment without explaining anything to the rest of us.”

“Is that when she broke Kirei’s nose?”

“No,” Archer said. “He wasn’t home. She wanted to break into his apartment, but Rin wouldn’t let her. She didn’t think the landlord you two had for years would have suddenly decided to kidnap you.”

“I didn’t, either,” Shirou said, a little bitterly.

“Rin called me, and then we filed a police report and waited. Rin and I stayed the night at your apartment, but Gilgamesh had to leave. And then this morning, we found out he had gone back and broken into Kirei’s apartment. He didn’t find you, but he found Kirei had installed his own private entrance into the basement. And that’s where he found you. We didn’t even know until the police were arriving at the building. You were unresponsive, but the paramedics noticed the needle marks on your arm and figured you must have been sedated. And now we’re here. It’s only been a few hours. I think he might have been doseing you regularly to keep you under.”

A different nurse came in with a tray of food for Shirou, along with a bottle of orange juice. He started eating immediately, barely even registering what it was. Archer came back to the side of the bed and put a hand on Shirou’s shoulder. “Don’t eat so fast,” he said. “Didn’t that bastard give you anything to eat?”

“A couple of sandwiches,” Shirou said. He forced himself to slow his pace. “When did Artoria break his nose?”

“He came back while the police were still there. He didn’t even seem to care about the flashing lights surrounding the damn building, just walked right in and asked what was going on. Artoria was in the lobby with Rin…” He stopped to let Rin fill in.

“They wouldn’t let Artoria onto the ambulance, so I told her I’d stay with her until we could get to the hospital. They’d already taken you away, and Archer went with you. Kirei walked in and she laid into him as soon as he opened his mouth. I’ve never heard so much filthy language from her. She kicked him in the face before the police could get her under control. Laid him flat out on the ground.”

“Kicked him? She didn’t punch him?” Kirei was more than a foot taller than Artoria, and kicking him would have been a real effort.

“One of the policemen was trying to hold her back. She just used him as leverage. Knocked him over, too, and landed on top of him. It was pretty crazy.”

Shirou never wanted to see Kirei again, but he thought he wouldn’t have minded seeing Artoria kick him in the face.

As if on cue, Artoria arrived. She came in quietly, like she thought Shirou might still be sleeping, but when she saw he was awake she all but hurled herself at him. She hugged him tightly around the shoulders, and Rin stepped in quickly to move the tray of food Shirou hadn’t quite finished out of the way before it spilled all over the bed.

Artoria was crying on his shoulder. Shirou had never seen her cry before. He patted her back reassuringly. “I’m okay,” he said. “It’s okay.” It seemed strange that he was the one reassuring her in this situation.

After a minute, Rin coaxed Artoria into releasing Shirou. “He needs to eat,” she said. “How’d it go with the police?”

Artoria made a visible attempt to compose herself, straightening and wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve before Archer mutely handed her a tissue. She didn’t use it, only clutched it in her hand. “There’s plenty of evidence pointing straight at Kirei,” she said. “I told them he’d been making lewd comments about Shirou for years--”

Shirou interrupted. “You never told me that!”

“I’m sorry!” Artoria said, starting to tear up again. She dabbed frantically at her eyes with the tissue. “I thought I’d just keep him away from you. It always worked before. He was a creep, but… I thought I could protect you from knowing how bad he was. And then I leave just when so much awful stuff is happening… I didn’t think he’d kidnap you!”

“It’s not your fault,” Shirou said. “You did warn me, even if you didn’t tell me everything. I should have known to trust your opinion. But it might have happened anyway, even if I hadn’t called him to fix the water heater. He could have grabbed me any time I was leaving the building, you know that, right?”

He hadn’t intended it, but that made her more alarmed than before. “I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again,” she said.

Before Shirou could respond to that, the door opened again, revealing Shirou’s father, and, behind him, Gilgamesh. Rin hadn’t moved the food tray back yet, which was just as well because Kiritsugu also threw himself at Shirou. He didn’t cry, but he did squeeze Shirou uncomfortably tight, and it was Archer’s turn to gently guide him away from Shirou.

Gilgamesh stood against the door, except before Kiritsugu could even say anything it opened again, forcing the blond to move aside. It was obviously the doctor, and she scowled at everyone in the room. “Out,” she said, pointedly.

No one moved.

“I prefer to speak to my patients in private, so unless one of you is this young man’s custodian,  _ out _ ,” she said.

Archer looked at Shirou. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

Shirou wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else to hear first-hand the full extent of his injuries. They were all worried enough as it was, and he had no idea what Kirei might have done to him while he was unconscious. He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“We’ll be in the hallway,” he said, steering Kiritsugu out, Rin and Artoria trailing behind him. Gilgamesh followed them, having not said a word the entire time he’d been in the room. Shirou felt a little bad for kicking his father and lover out as soon as they’d arrived, but he was pretty sure that in the hospital everyone ran on timing that was permanently inconvenient.

“Well, Mr. Emiya,” the doctor said. She was holding a clipboard, which she held up and glanced over. “How do you feel?”

“A little shaky,” Shirou admitted, “A little groggy still. My neck hurts.”

“You were drugged with a high dose of lorazepam, probably more than once judging from the needle marks on your arm. The police found a discarded syringe and we tested it, so we know what the drug was for sure, although I would recommend letting us take a blood sample to turn over as evidence.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I would like to do that.”

“Do you know how long you were under?”

Shirou glanced at his his arm. There were multiple puncture marks there, but he didn’t remember anything other than the first time. “No,” he said. “I couldn't really keep track of time.”

“We haven’t observed any side effects just yet, but we want to keep you under observation for at least one night, to be on the safe side. It can cause low blood pressure, which may explain the grogginess. You may also find yourself with gaps in your memory.”

“I see,” Shirou said. He remembered his entire captivity before being drugged vividly, but he would not mind forgetting it.

“Physically, you seem to be doing okay. You have a lot of bruises, some scrapes that have already started to heal, and a few cuts. There do not appear to be any signs of infection. The bruising on your neck and your chest is the worst. Does it hurt to swallow?”

“Yes.”

“What about talking?”

“Not really.”

“And breathing?”

Shirou took an experimental deep breath. “A little, but not much,” he said.

“Good. There’s some swelling, but it’s been going down nicely since you got here. You should ice it regularly. I’ll leave instructions for that with the nurses. Beyond that…” She hesitated, looking Shirou over, then apparently deciding to be frank. “We weren't sure if a rape kit is necessary. It’s your choice whether or not you want to undergo that.”

A deep disgust crept into Shirou’s gut, threatening to trigger his nausea again. “I'll think about it,” he said. He wanted to believe nothing like that happened but he really didn't know what happened after he had been drugged. The doctor had already said he could have memory loss.

“Whether you decide to or not, I would also recommend you get tested for STIs. We can do that easily here, although we usually ask that patients get a follow up test sometime the following week as well.”

He nodded. “I think that's a good idea,” he said. He actually got tested on a regular basis, because he was unfortunately lax in making sure his partners were doing the same. Thus far he'd been lucky.

“Normally we would move you to a different ward for observation, but because of the circumstances and that the police will be wanting to question you, we’ll be keeping you here in the emergency room for the time being. If you notice any changes, let a nurse know immediately. Do you have any questions?”

Shirou shook his head, then stopped. “Oh, um, what's your name?”

She laughed. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I'm Dr. Estebanos.” She offered a hand, which Shirou shook. “Again, press the call button if you need anything. Someone will be in soon to get the blood sample for the toxicology exam, and swabs for the STI test. The nurses will be around to check on you regularly as well, and someone will come soon to ice your neck. I would suggest you get some rest, too.”

“I will.”

She left, and everyone else trickled back in, more or less resuming their previous positions. Rin finally pushed the tray back for Shirou to finish his meal. His father perched on the end of the bed, and Rin let Artoria have the chair, joining Archer in leaning against the counter.

Shirou realized immediately that someone was missing. “Where’s Gilgamesh?” he asked.

Artoria flushed and looked at the floor. Rin sighed. “He and Artoria got into an argument and security kicked him out.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“I'm sorry,” Artoria said. “I told them I'd go instead but he was already halfway to the door.”

“What were you even fighting about?”

“Archer told me that Gilgamesh said he thought we’d eloped.”

Shirou didn't understand why that would cause an argument since it had so obviously been a mistake. He waited for further explanation.

Artoria figeted. “He said you shouldn't even be living with me if I couldn't keep you safe.”

“Oh,” Shirou said. That made more sense.

“Both of them said several things they shouldn't have,” Rin said. “We’ll get Gilgamesh back. You probably should spend some time with your father, anyway.” She got up and went to the door, arching an eyebrow at both Archer and Artoria until they also got up and left with her. Shirou stared after them for a long moment before turning to Kiritsugu.

His and Archer’s father did not resemble them in any way. Kiritsugu Emiya was a scruffy-looking man, in perpetual need of a haircut and a shave, with a rasp to his voice from too many years of smoking and permanent dark circles under his eyes. He always looked tired, but at the moment he looked more tired than ever. He pulled the chair Artoria had been sitting in over to the bedside and sat down. “You should eat,” he said. “There's only going to be more interruptions.”

“Sorry for missing dinner on Sunday,” Shirou said as he ate a forkful of now-cold macaroni.

“I thought you'd stood me up,” Kiritsugu said. “You wouldn't answer your phone. I thought maybe I had missed a call from you, or Archer had convinced you not to come.”

“Did Archer make it?”

“Archer never makes it,” Kiritsugu said. Archer had a long-standing aversion to meeting any woman Kiritsugu was dating, due to one time when the woman had dumped their father in preference of pursuing Archer instead.

“Sorry.”

“I'm the one who’s sorry. I had a nice date, albeit one chaperoned by a teenage girl, while you were being abused by…” He couldn't finish, both hands balled into fists and his head bowed.

“She has a daughter?” Shirou asked.

The question surprised Kiritsugu. “Yes,” he said. “She's an odd girl. She’ll be graduating high school this year.”

The conversation stopped. Shirou toyed with his food, not knowing what else to say. He didn't want to upset Kiritsugu any more than he already was.

“So I met your boyfriend,” Kiritsugu said.

“Oh, yeah,” Shirou said. “Gilgamesh.” Hearing his father call Gilgamesh his “boyfriend” was a little disconcerting.

“He's very rich.”

“He is,” Shirou said, “but that's not why I'm dating him.”

“He's also your boss,” Kiritsugu pointed out.

Shirou shrugged. “I know. It's not exactly ethical. He and I had talked about it before the whole scandal broke. I guess you saw that?”

“Not until the other day,” Kiritsugu said. “Someone at the school asked me if it was really my son. I think she wanted me to get Gilgamesh’s autograph.”

Shirou laughed a little at that. “I should have called you about it and I didn't. I was a little preoccupied.”

“I can see why. He's, hmm, a very handsome man, I suppose.”

Shirou actually blushed. “I didn't mean like that! There were paparazzi everywhere, and Gilgamesh wanted me to stay away from my apartment in case any of them found it, and he didn’t want me to quit and didn't want to talk about it.” Shirou sighed. “I made him take me home so he could cool his head. I just wanted it to be low-key, away from everything else, and since Artoria had a long job I thought it would be fine. Just relaxing at home, dinner with my dad…”

“He spent the whole car ride here assuring me his intentions were honorable,” Kiritsugu said. “It's the first time I've ever felt like I might know what having a daughter is like. I thought he was going to ask for permission to marry you.”

That made Shirou go bright red. “What?”

“In case you were worried about it,” Kiritsugu said. “I wouldn't bother. I think he really loves you.”

The conversation was interrupted by the door opening again and Rin physically pushing Gilgamesh in, trailed by his brother and Artoria. The blond was clearly fuming, but the second Shirou laid eyes on him he felt his eyes overflow with tears and Gilgamesh went wide eyed and froze in place. Rin peered around to see what was happening and then abruptly reversed her momentum, dragging Archer and Artoria back out of the room. Kiritsugu also got up and, after gently patting Shirou’s shoulder, left with them. He closed the door softly behind him.

Shirou pushed the tray out of his way and beckoned for Gilgamesh to come over. He wiped his eyes with the shoulder of his hospital gown, dislodging Archer’s jacket in the process. Gilgamesh came over and gently pulled the jacket up to rest it back on Shirou’s shoulders, then sat down on the edge of the bed. “How are you?” he asked.

“Honestly? I’ve been better,” Shirou said. He tried not to flinch as Gilgamesh reached out and brushed fingertips against his throat. He caught Gilgamesh’s hand and pulled it back down. “Sorry, it hurts.”

Gilgamesh’s mouth formed into a flat line. “I heard Artoria broke his nose,” he said.

“That’s what Rin said. Weren’t you there?”

“I was in a police car,” Gilgamesh said.

“What? Why? They couldn’t have thought…”

“That I was the one who hurt you?” Gilgamesh ran his fingers along Shirou’s hairline. “No, they put me in there because I told them I was going to hunt your landlord down and disembowel him.”

“And they believed you?” Shirou thought the police must hear stuff like that all the time. He wondered how they judged if it was a real threat or not.

“I don’t think they did, but there were too many people with cameras around. They told me it was for my own safety. I’m sure it’s going to be in the news tomorrow anyway. It probably already is.”

Shirou reached out and put his arms around Gilgamesh’s shoulders, pulling him down into an embrace. Gilgamesh squeezed Shirou against his chest, careful of his neck. “Did you really think I eloped with Artoria?” Shirou asked.

“I didn’t know what to think. You insisted on going home and promptly disappeared. I went to your place but she wasn’t there either. I called you and I called you.” His grip on Shirou tightened. “I passed the bastard in the lobby on the day your roommate came home. I didn’t pay any attention to him.”

“She tried to keep me safe from him, but she never told me how bad he really was,” Shirou said. “I don’t even know if I was the first person he kidnapped.”

Gilgamesh released him and backed off, folding both Shirou’s hands between his own. “You can’t go back to that building. Live with me.”

Shirou had been expecting that. “I can’t make that decision right now,” he said.

“I know,” Gilgamesh said, sighing. “Sometimes you’re so complicated.”

Shirou shrugged, then winced as the movement hurt his bruised neck. “I can’t make that decision long-term,” he said. “But I wouldn’t mind staying with you for a little while, at least. You’re right that I can’t go back to my apartment right now.” Even if Kirei was locked up, he wouldn’t feel safe there. He knew that. It would probably hurt Artoria, but he didn’t even want her staying there. Rin and Archer had a guest room, and she could use Rin’s recording equipment, but the only other place he could go was his father’s and he’d have to sleep on the couch there.

“Of course,” Gilgamesh said, smoothly, although Shirou could tell he was excited by the prospect.

“The doctor said they want to keep me overnight. We have a lot we need to talk about, too, but that can wait.”

That sobered Gilgamesh somewhat. “Yes.”

“My dad seems to like you,” Shirou said. “He's impressed.”

Gilgamesh perked up a little. “I am very impressive,” he said.

A nurse came in, carrying a clipboard. He let the door close behind him, but then he just stared at Gilgamesh, who scowled at him. Shirou put a hand on Gilgamesh’s arm to keep him from saying anything rude, and said, “Are you here to take my blood?”

“Yeah, blood,” the nurse said. He was clearly starstruck by Gilgamesh, but Shirou didn’t want Gilgamesh to leave the room.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Gilgamesh said. He moved around to the other side of the bed and folded his arms as he leaned against the edge of the table where Rin’s laptop was still sitting.

“Um,” the nurse said, “Okay, yeah, we’re also going to need a cheek swab.”

“For what?” Gilgamesh asked.

The nurse’s expression changed to something like a deer in headlights at being questioned by Gilgamesh Kish.

Shirou hadn't really expected the nurse to come so soon, while Gilgamesh was still there. His expression suggested he actually knew what the cheek swab implied. “Don't worry about it,” he said, and then to the nurse, “Which arm do you need?”

Gilgamesh stayed silent as the nurse took three vials of blood and did the cheek swab. Shirou wished he'd eaten more of his meal while it was still fresh, because he felt shaky after the blood draw. A few drops of blood had dripped onto the sheet and he stared at them as the nurse finished up and left.

There was still a small fruit cup on the tray he hadn't touched. As soon as the nurse was gone, he picked that up and opened it.

“Why are they doing a cheek swab?” Gilgamesh asked. He was still leaning against the table, though he'd dropped his arms from their defensive folded position.

Shirou ate a spoonful of pineapple chunks. He didn't really like pineapple. “It's just a precaution,” he said. “I wanted them to.”

“I really am going to kill that man,” Gilgamesh said. He’d clenched his fists by his sides and he looked like he wanted to destroy something.

Shirou put the fruit cup back down. “Come here,” he said, reaching out toward Gilgamesh.

Tensely, Gilgamesh came to the side of the bed. Shirou took his hand. “I don't think I need to worry about anything,” Shirou said. “I'm probably fine. But I don't know how long he had me drugged. And I don’t know if the syringe he used was clean.” He wondered what he sounded like to Gilgamesh right now. He was being too logical and too analytical about this. He hadn't really gone through so extreme a trauma before. Was this how he coped? An excess of practicality? It was weird to discover that about himself.

“Shirou…” Gilgamesh clearly didn't know what to say. He stared at his hands. He loosened one fist, then closed it again.

“I don't want to tell you everything that happened,” Shirou said. “Maybe someday, but not now.” Even as he said it, he considered he was going to have to tell the police. Would he have to tell a lawyer? Surely there was going to be a criminal trial for Kirei. Shirou had studied a little bit of law to compliment his MBA, but not criminal law, and he really didn’t know how any of that worked.

Gilgamesh stayed silent for a long time, breathing evenly in and out, in and out. He was still looking down. “Okay,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Shirou said, instantly.

“Do what’s best for you,” Gilgamesh said. “Just don’t withdraw from me.”

Shirou nodded. “I’ll try.”

The door opened again. Rin poked her head in. “Uh, hey,” she said.

“What?” Gilgamesh snapped at her.

She pushed open the door the rest of the way and came in. “They want us out of the hospital. There’s a police officer here to take a statement from Shirou, too. Since this is the ER, they said no one’s really allowed to stay overnight.”

Shirou panicked. He couldn’t rationalize that the hospital was full of people, that he had a call button at his side to summon help if he needed it. Every bit of the rationality he’d just observed in himself went out the window. He did not want to be alone. “No,” he said.

“No?” Rin looked at him.

“Don't leave me alone.”

As he said that, Archer came up behind Rin. “I'll talk to them,” he said. “I did my residency here, so maybe I have some clout. But,” he looked at Gilgamesh directly. “It's going to have to be either me or Dad who stays. They're not going to let someone who isn't family.”

Gilgamesh stepped forward and slid his hand into Shirou’s. “What if I just refuse to leave?”

“You've already been kicked out once,” Archer said. “Don't push it.” He left.

Rin came around the other side of the bed and sat in the chair. She tapped at her laptop before closing it. “The battery life on these things is great,” she said. “You really know what you're doing over at your fancy company.”

“Of course,” Gilgamesh said. He hadn't let go of Shirou’s hand, but he'd turned to watch her.

“Shirou. Can the three of us talk about something practical while the more reactionary of our friends and family are out of the room?”

“I guess?” Shirou said, although he was glad for a topic that distracted him from his newfound fear of being alone.

“None of us expect you're going to want to go back to your apartment after this—”

Gilgamesh cut her off. “We’ve already discussed this. He's coming home with me tomorrow.”

Rin shrugged. “That sounds fine to me, but Archer’s gonna protest it. So is Artoria.”

“They can protest all they like. It's his decision.”

“Will you be able to stay there with him all day? If he doesn't want to be alone, who’s there to keep an eye on him?”

Gilgamesh clearly didn't have an answer for that.

“Shirou, I am not going to argue that you should go home with either your father or Archer and I, but I also think alone at your boyfriend’s mansion all day might not be an ideal place for you mentally, either.”

“So what are you proposing?” Gilgamesh asked. “Do you want me to hire a nurse?”

“Please no,” Shirou said. He understood what Rin was saying. The thought of having only a stranger for company was worse than the thought of being alone.

“No,” Rin said, “I want you to let one of us stay with him there when you're not home. In other words, I think you should give us access to your house, and that's the only way I'm going to support him staying with you.”

Shirou watched Gilgamesh’s face as he considered the proposal. “Fine,” he said at length, just before Archer came back.

“They said I can stay, but everyone else needs to go. Dad called his boss, so he's going to go home with you, Rin.”

“What about Artoria?” Rin asked as she stood.

“What about her?” Archer asked.

Rin put her hands on her hips. “You can't honestly expect her to go home under these circumstances.”

“Fine, take her home too! I can't help that we only have one extra bedroom.”

“If you're going to be here, she can share the bed with me,” Rin said. “No problem. Do you want me to leave my laptop for you?”

“If that's okay with you.”

“Maybe you can finish my editing project for me,” Rin said. She came over and pushed around Gilgamesh to give Shirou a hug. “We’ll stop by your apartment to get you some clothes before you're released tomorrow.”

“Thanks. And sorry,” Shirou said.

“None of this is your fault, so don't apologize again,” Gilgamesh snapped, which made everyone else in the room stare at him. “Do  _ not _ feel guilty about any of it.”

“I agree with you,” Rin said, “but don't yell in the hospital. I'll see you tomorrow, Shirou.” She walked out.

Gilgamesh lingered, with Archer staring daggers into his back. Under different circumstances it might be funny. Archer always judged Shirou’s partners harshly, but Gilgamesh probably didn't have much going for him right now in Archer’s eyes, even if he had been the one leading the search for Shirou.

Artoria and Kiritsugu came in shortly after Rin had left. “Hey, Shirou,” Artoria said. She was clearly trying to keep a straight face but her eyes were glistening with tears. “I'll bring you some clothes tomorrow, since I know you wouldn't be caught dead in a hospital gown.”

“Thanks,” Shirou said, “although I think I should probably stay a little unfashionable for now. Can you just bring me a set of my gym clothes?”

“Sure, but do you want your yoga pants or those tiny little shorts?”

Shirou laughed at that, although Archer said, “Don't you have any sweatpants like a normal person?”

Artoria gave him a quick hug, then stepped aside to let Kiritsugu do the same. Kiritsugu patted Shirou’s shoulder again after hugging him. “I'm glad you're safe,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything but recovering.”

“Thanks,” Shirou said.

Gilgamesh still did not leave after Artoria and Kiritsugu did. Archer didn’t say anything, just watched him from his chair. He’d had to release Shirou’s hand while the others were saying their goodbyes, but now he sat down on the edge of the bed and settled his hand into Shirou’s again.

“You can’t stay here tonight,” Archer finally said.

“I know that,” Gilgamesh said. He didn’t look at Archer when he said it. His other hand came up to stroke Shirou’s hair. “I know that. Can I have a moment, though?”

“You were alone with him for almost an hour already!”

“Archer, please?” Shirou asked, leaning back to look at his brother around Gilgamesh’s shoulder. “Just a few minutes?”

Archer heaved an exaggerated sigh as he got up and left.

Gilgamesh brought Shirou’s hand up to his chest. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, and we’ve been lovers even less time,” he said. Shirou could feel his heartbeat through his chest, and it was comforting. “I know I have a bad reputation. I know I have a lot of flaws. Just… believe me when I say I love you, Shirou.”

“I do,” Shirou said, as his face went hot. “I believe you. You rescued me from Kirei.”

“I know it’s so early in this relationship… I want you to stay with me, though. Whether or not you keep working for me, or find a new job. If you won’t live with me, I don’t care. As long as we’re together. I don’t want to go back to life before you.”

Shirou had never had someone confess to him like this before. He’d had boyfriends who had declared their undying love, just not like this. Not on those terms. Not so earnestly. Gilgamesh’s expression was a mix of hope and fear. It was strange to see on a man who was so haughty in his regular day-to-day life. His hand was tight around Shirou’s, and his heart was beating quickly.

It was true they hadn’t been together long, and they’d barely met more than a couple of months ago. It was also true that their relationship had developed into a sexual one before a romantic one. Shirou tried to even consider if that mattered. He loved Gilgamesh. He absolutely did. He believed this was a relationship that could last. Honestly, they’d already gone through two challenges that would have destroyed most relationships Shirou had in the past. He’d deal with media scrutiny for Gilgamesh. It was worth it. “Yes,” he said. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Gilgamesh pulled him close, not releasing his hand but wrapping his other arm around Shirou’s shoulders and pressing his face into Shirou’s shoulder. Shirou closed his eyes and let his own head rest on Gilgamesh’s chest.


End file.
